


Recognize This As A Holy Gift

by Lunarium



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (of sorts), Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Angst, Background Ships (Allurance. Thulaz. and Locxa), Dark, Eventual Happy Ending, Fibonacci Numbers, Government Conspiracy, Hurt/Comfort, Lost and Found, M/M, Mystery, Occult, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Strange and Stranger Things, Thriller, Torture, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character, Ufology, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 60,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: Keith, a newcomer to a tiny town, has gaps in his memory. Just as he begins unpacking the cobwebbed boxes in his apartment, he gets visitations by a ghost who calls himself Shiro. His face is someone Keith recognizes, but he has never seen him before; his name sits heavy and familiar on Keith’s tongue although Keith is certain he had never known him.But as Keith peels back the mysteries surrounding Takashi Shirogane, the voids of his memories begin to fill, threatening his basic understanding of himself, the world around him, and reality itself.





	1. This body holding me, reminding me I’m not alone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sheith Big Bang 2018! This entire story was inspired by Tool’s Lateralus album in which the songs are rearranged to what fans commonly call “The Holy Gift” secret album. You can read a little more about it [here](https://www.ultimate-guitar.com/news/general_music_news/so_tool_have_a_secret_album_called_the_holy_gift_heres_what_it_sounds_like.html). And I guess that basically means The Holy Gift is this fic’s fanmix. :D Here is a [continuous YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17WlwPfFxi4) link, and a playlist. Each chapter will be named after each respective song. 
> 
> Please check out the art MoseSins did for my fic [right over here](http://mose-doodles.tumblr.com/post/178061115127/one-of-my-doodles-for-the-sheithbigbang-that-i)! Like it, reblog, and give it love! <3 It is fabulous and it’s one of my favorite scenes from the earlier chapters (second chapter spoilers, in case you don’t wish to see it just yet!) 
> 
> Thank you so much to my team of cheerleaders and betas of Rox, Ni (Genesister), AtlasM, and MonarchMononoke! You all rock so much! <3

Dawn sought its way to him between several tall towers of stacked and unopened boxes, each of them cobwebbed to the walls. On the hard ground floor of the apartment complex lay Keith in nothing but a tee-shirt and shorts, his eyes slowly adjusting to the faint change in the light. His fingers curled around a piece of paper discarded the night before—and hadn’t a man’s hand used to take up residence there, in his own hand?— he wondered vaguely before waving away the thought, deeming it nothing more than the remnant of a dream still caught on the fringes of the morning. The chill of the cool morning finally caught up to him and he pushed himself up onto his elbows. 

Somewhere just beyond the window, a bird began to sing. His heart instantly filled with such intense emotion he nearly wept in his spot, crumpling the piece of paper in his hands into a garbled marble ball. The morning carried on like a muted song. The water hitting the bottom of the tin tea kettle reverberated through the empty kitchen, a shadow catching the echo. 

Keith peered out his window and wondered how many times he had watched the sun rise, and when, and why the question bothered him. He counted how many days he has lived on this world, how many weeks, months, years. The math comforted him, but only a little; the days before this moment sat cloudy and dark in his mind. The boxes could have been sitting out here for weeks, but he he knew they hadn’t, due to the absence of dust on them. Well, the cobwebs say otherwise. Their condition could have been worse. 

He’d moved here only two weeks previous, not months, right? 

Yet why had he come here? 

What was he escaping? 

When he brought the rent to the landlady, an elderly but kind woman with an accent, she kissed his hand and looked at him with utmost pity and grief. Kielo Miettinen was her name, and Keith had caught a snippet of her unit: a flag of Finland, photos of swans. A porcelain statue of a swan stood by the window, reflecting the light in her beautiful opaline wings. 

And she had studied him like she could see the torment which Keith himself was not privy to. 

He wondered about this, about what old lady Kielo could see, as he bit into his toast. Perhaps the source of pain he had been running away from had eased its claws over his conscious the moment he had taken his final step out of that old world. The capacity for the human mind to forget, and forget quickly, was not to be underestimated. No matter the trauma, Keith had an easy time letting go. Hadn’t someone taught him this before? 

The steam rising from the teacup sent his stomach curling.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Dust motes danced in the sunbeam of the bedroom which Keith had yet to occupy, and he steered clear of it. The bed was bad. A bad bed. Why did it make him uneasy?

Instead, he glanced at the unopened boxes. He could begin unpacking right now, he told himself, as if that mental conversation alone would motivate him to do it. But he still had other matters to tend to back where he came from. 

For his testosterone injections, he stilled received back in Paradise—Keith almost had to laugh at the name—but all other business would take place at this place, from here on out. 

He dressed and slipped out, though not without another glance, as if there was someone behind him he could say goodbye to. His heart ached when he saw no one. 

Locating the post office took a bit of effort, as Keith had never traveled past this town before, and so was not familiar with street names or directions. It took some time to suss out the location from residents he bumped into, but he prevailed. 

Once there, he set up a P.O. box, and glanced at the workers who would be handling his mail. There were two workers at the office, and they picked up that Keith was a new face instantly. Nyma was a very tall lady who wore her long golden hair in two long pigtails; Rolo was a tall, lanky lad with a hint of stubble on his face. Both were delighted to offer him a map of the town.

After thanking them, Keith went to Goldlake Public Library to make a card. The librarian who helped with setting up his account, Olia, was just as friendly as the postal workers, and offered him plenty of brochures about the town, including a list with addresses for the town’s city hall, hospital and other medical centers, some cafés and restaurants so he wouldn’t starve, and plenty of other locations he would find useful. There was even a small museum. Keith hadn’t thought the town would be big enough to hold one. 

After browsing through the library, which was mercifully big and contained a variety of books to keep him sated, he finally gave in to his hunger and located a small diner across the street called Sal’s. 

It was named after the owner, who was a bit of a rude mess. Keith tried not to make too much of a fuss about his customer service, as he was new, and thus a stranger in a not-so-strange land, and he didn’t know what could have been happening in Sal’s life to have made him so bitter that day. Probably had something to do with the phone that kept ringing as he was trying to work. 

But Sal had an assistant chef named Hunk who seemed to do all of the miracles, although Keith chickened out of trying the kibbeh and tabbouleh. (Maybe next time, he thought as he hungrily eyed the dish on another patron’s table.) Coupled with Hunk’s cooking and the guy taking the order, some eager-to-please kid named Lance, Keith was able to receive a proper lunch and sit out by himself as he studied the card in his hand. 

The last time he had been to Paradise, Dr. Ryner had offered him kindness and smiles. Her assistant who usually accompanied her—Shay, that was her name. She had large hands that were warm and could engulf his entire arm in hers—spoke with extra caution and kindness as well. The longer he ate, chewing the bite of falafel sandwich in his mouth, he remembered the way they had last spoken with him in hushed, yet soft and warm voices, as if he was something delicate. As if someone had died. 

Perhaps so. 

He squeezed the edges of the card. Juniper Psychiatry and Behavioral Health. First meeting later today, this afternoon. If he got his days right.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

The secretary’s name was Flo, and the first thing Keith noticed was the necklace comprised of seashells hanging over a beach-themed blouse; he could just see the sandals on her feet peeking from beneath the desk. A flash of some unnamed beach and suddenly Keith nearly fainted had he not gripped the front desk.

“May I help you?” she asked in a sing-song voice, sweet and melodic, bringing him back. 

“I’m here to see Dr. Coran and…and Dr.-” 

“Allura,” someone spoke as she appeared in the waiting room, smiling up at Keith. She shook Keith’s hand. “Just Allura. Come this way.” 

The clinic was small yet well-organized and clean, and the seats were numerous and comfortable-looking. He didn’t get a chance to sit; he was taken to one of the two examination rooms.

His new therapists went through a brief introduction about themselves, as means of having him relax. Keith couldn’t help but notice the stark difference in their accents. Dr. Coran had to be from Australia, or New Zealand—Keith’s eyes nearly glazed over as the memory of a song echoed in his mind. There was laughter over someone’s rendition of “Down Under” by Men at Work, that was it. But who was Keith laughing with?—while Allura’s voice made him think of afternoon tea and Big Ben. 

“And now a little about you,” Allura pulled up a clipboard and readied it on her knees. “Tell us your name, and a little about yourself.” 

Keith cleared his throat. “My name is Keith Kogane and I am twenty-four years old. I was born on October twenty-third of the year…” he went on like this like some automated doll, but it was important. “I moved to Goldlake from Paradise two…three? Three weeks ago, I think.” 

— _One month and he’ll begin to adjust here._ —

“And what brings you in today?” Dr. Coran asked, smiling encouragingly to him. 

Keith opened his mouth, closed it instantly, and swallowed thickly. “I…don’t know. I guess because…I don’t remember anything? Anything since coming here, it’s all a blur. I don’t even know why it took me so long to get things set up…” 

Allura and Dr. Coran nodded to one another. 

“A slow start doesn’t necessarily indicate a problem,” Allura said. “It may be that it just took you awhile to feel sure enough to settle in?” 

Keith sat across from his two therapists, trying to cooperate. But it’s hard when he wasn’t sure why he was to be seen at all. He had gaps in his memories. That they all agreed on. Other things he was hesitant to bring up unless he was pressed to. Certain sights, sounds, and smells triggered intense emotions that caused borderline-violent reactions; it was mostly crying, sometimes nausea that resulted. His chest and head would hurt whenever they came up, permeating him with a sense of grief.

Allura jotted down everything he said, while Coran was more interested in telling stories and making him lighten up. But Keith couldn’t open up about some things no matter how much they coaxed him. Maybe not for this session. He couldn’t tell them how he would wake in the morning and lie for a few moments stretched out. How he imagined a lover lying right over him, taking him until his entire body’s quivered with waves of bliss, how he felt the gentle rousing in the morning, his fingers curled with the fingers of another hand, another being. His lover. His someone. 

There was never another someone in his life. Somehow, Keith was certain of that, but why did his heart ache and yearn so much for arms that never existed, for arms that never held him, engulfing him in the other’s body heat, warmth familiar and overwhelming?How could there have been someone reminding Keith that he was _alive_ , an eternal soul walking in a mortal shell from which he could discard any woe, for any pain he felt was an illusion, when he was in this phantom lover’s arms, when they didn’t exist to begin with? 

He wasn’t even sure why he was being seen, when it felt like nothing could help. He initially didn’t think there was anything wrong with him, but the more he dwelled on the questions in his head, the more he wondered if something was seriously wrong with him. At the same time, the answers kept slipping from him, further and further away on unseen waves, as he found himself forced to drown in uncertainty. 

When Allura finally called time on their session, Keith had the strange feeling of having sat there for days on end, yet also having just barely sat down. He thanked them, and another session was scheduled. Allura’s smile unnerved him, as if it said, _we will see you again before you realize it._ Coran’s eyes seemed to sparkle with a similar anticipation that made him uncomfortable.

Still, he thanked them and got up awkwardly, as if unsure if their session really had ended. He found his way back to the front desk and rummaged for his checkbook to pay for his copay, suddenly remembering that he didn’t have his card on him. Flo raised a hand, her seashell ring glimmering under the fluorescent lights. 

“First session is always free for our clients,” she said pleasantly, as Allura and Dr. Coran passed the office from the other side. They waved warmly to him. 

The walk back to his apartment took the better part of an hour, Keith had intentionally let himself get lost, wishing to memorize as much as he could of the small town. At one point he caught sight of Hunk and Lance leaving work for the day. Lance, when he wasn’t skipping around Hunk, would occasionally place his head on the other’s shoulder, and the gesture was enough to spark a strange longing inside Keith. 

As the sun set below the horizon, a cemetery drew in his line of sight. He hadn’t really given it much attention before, but it was located right across the road from his apartment. 

Pine Rivers Cemetery. 

The shadows, pulled by the sinking sunset, cast a silence in the vicinity that seemed to swallow any of the traffic passing by. Kielo’s door was ajar, and Keith could hear her speaking with a Lauri on the phone, some of the words unfamiliar. He smiled, assuming they were Finnish. 

In his own unit, the silence greeted him along with the crushing darkness, broken by towers of unopened boxes. 

The last of the sunset simmered down to the thinnest strip on the horizon, its light tracing around the stacked unopened boxes lining around the empty new apartment. Keith stood watching as the sinking light disappeared and the edges of the boxes curled into the civil twilight. 

He dragged his feet across the room, filled a cup with water in the sink. The water splashed into the basin made a sound that reverberated metallically into the dimming apartment. 

He’d been through this before. He would greet the sunrise among these boxes. He would bid the world goodnight among them. 

He sat by the window for a few moments as the world steadily grew darker, then finally slipped out onto the porch and peered out at the cemetery. His eyes glimpsed a large tomb in the center of the cemetery, the windows pitch black, reflecting the black-blue of the nautical twilight high above, and he felt all warmth escape from his fingertips. 

Death. The end. 

He reeled back, unable to breathe, and for a moment considered dialing Allura or Dr. Coran. Or the crisis hotline—did they give him a crisis hotline? 

Instead, with his back pressed against the porch’s doorframe, he worked on getting his breathing back to normal. 

It wasn’t working. It was too quiet in here. Too still. Too dead. 

Keith wondered, _maybe I am terrified of being locked in an endless loop of repeating the same day over and over. This has become my own hell, and I don’t know how many P.O. boxes I have made, how many library cards, how many times I have been to Sal’s. What if I am cursed to live like this forever?_

_What if I don’t remember today?_

“And it’s too quiet in here,” he said out loud. “It’s too dark.” 

Wiping the tears from his cheeks, he hunted for the lights, and felt a sigh of relief pass through him as the lights flickered on throughout the apartment. Yellow, dim, but it was light. It pulled and stretched the shadows against the walls. A spider was making itself at home in a corner of the new apartment unit; the spider itself was absent at the moment, but the web still stood. 

He rummaged through some scattered scraps of paper on the floor, finally producing a sheet that was flat and blank. In one of the boxes next to his computer, filled with all sorts of electronics, he found a small radio. He switched it on, flinching as static reverberated in the unit until he found a station. 

He hunted for a pen, and settling himself back down, he jotted down the events of the day. If he woke up with no recollection of today by tomorrow morning, he could just read this. 

“You have a P.O. box,” he said and wrote his address down. “Your library card is in the pocket of your jeans. You checked out ’Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea’ and it is due in two weeks, on April 21st. You paid rent yesterday. Don’t try the falafel sandwich at Sal’s. You liked it but you are interested in the kibbeh and tabbouleh.” 

He read over his note and nearly tore it in half. His vision blurred, and before he knew it, he was weeping once more. 

He pulled himself back. This wasn’t like him. Somehow, he remembered that. Looking around himself, he wondered why it had taken him so long to unpack. 

— _One month and he’ll begin to adjust here._ —

It was too late to begin a major overhaul of his belongings, but he could start with the daybed. Positioned right beside the computer desk, it doubled as a couch. It would be suitable to sleep on, and it wouldn’t require Keith to go into the bedroom, to use _that_ bed. It would be worlds better than sleeping on the floor. How long had he done that? 

But it was laden with boxes, so Keith began with removing them and finding a new place to put them, at least for the time being. He dusted off the soot and dust that had collected on the mattress, then he hunted for some sheets to use as a spread, and a suitable blanket. 

He wouldn’t even glance at the bedroom, but thankfully, the blankets had been transported into a closet right next to the front door. 

At last, he slipped under the cover, and that was when Keith became aware that the radio was still playing. He hadn’t given it much attention, though he appreciated the sound. He hesitated before switching it off, listening for the wave of silence that followed. 

He leaned up and flicked the light on the computer desk off, and the entire room went dark. 

Tomorrow was another day. If he was granted that. 

Keith curled under the covers, remembering again some phantom arms around him. A kiss on his brow. 

_This body holding me, reminding me that I’m not alone._

Don’t cry. There was once a kiss. 

Another trail of tears slowly tracked down his face, his eyes squeezed closed. He willed his breathing to steady, focusing on the sensation he had never experienced, the imaginary force who filled his world with love. Curled up, he felt not more than a singular speck in the vast cold cosmos, but in the warm phantom arms of his imagination he was reminded that he was so much more, a universe unto himself. 

_This body makes me feel eternal. All my pain is an illusion._

A hand suddenly cupped his cheek. 

“Keith?”


	2. We barely remember what came before this precious moment

Keith jolted up from the daybed, one arm flying out to knock the hand from his cheek. His arm met resistance, and his heart leapt to his throat. Who had come into his apartment? He’d locked his front door. He was sure of that. 

“Who are you?” he demanded loudly into the darkness, except the other man wasn’t shrouded in shadows. Not a single ray of light came from any streetlight. The only light outside was coming from two small lamps framing the gates of the cemetery, and it wouldn’t have reached his unit. But this man appeared to glow from a light within himself. He shimmered with a violet light, and his entire form was ghostly and transparent, yet Keith was certain he had just touched him moments before.

“Keith,” the man repeated again. “Hold on. Stay inside.” He spoke this gently as he pushed Keith back in bed and under the covers. “You’re alive—safe.” The words left like a sigh of relief from his lips. “I did not mean to alarm you.” 

“Who are you?” Keith said. “How do you know my name?” 

Up close, the man was oddly familiar, but Keith had no recollection of ever having seen him. He thought he saw the glimmer of a tear roll down the ghost’s face, but he was still smiling. 

“You don’t remember?” the man said. “Shiro.” 

“Shiro,” Keith said. The name rolled on his tongue with strong poignancy, thick and vibrant in its taste. 

Yet nothing roused in his memory. 

“Shiro?” 

Shiro, who was studying his face, perhaps for some sort of reaction, sighed and sat back on the daybed.

“Nothing, huh?” he said. At least there was no anger in his voice, though his eyes glimmered with unshed tears that mirrored his beautifully sad smile. “But…you are alive. You are safe and well, and you’re _here_. And that is all that matters right now. Go back to sleep; don’t be alarmed.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

When Keith awoke, warmth from the dawn poured over his stretched out torso, toasting him under the blanket. He quickly sat up and glanced around himself.

“Shiro?” 

As far as he could recall, no one he knew had passed away—was that what had troubled Dr. Ryner and Shay? Were they sad that Keith had lost someone? Was Shiro looking to check in on him? Then why did he come now? Or had he come in before, and Keith just didn’t remember? 

Gasping, Keith searched for the piece of paper on the desk. He read his note to himself and was relieved to learn he still recalled everything that happened yesterday. 

As the single-cup coffee maker brewed his cup, he stuck his head out of the patio again, catching sight of the cemetery. Did observing it the night before cause that dream? Had that man really existed? Perhaps ghosts were frequent sightings around graveyards. He wouldn’t know; he suspected his previous residences weren’t anywhere near them. 

“Are you buried there, Shiro?” Keith said under his breath. His face flushed. He never spoke aloud, and a painful shiver rushed through him. _I’m not going crazy. I don’t need to see Allura and Dr. Coran again._

Shaking his head, he slipped back in and slid the patio door shut. The ensuing gust of wind rustled a stack of papers next to his computer, drawing his attention to it. 

_That’s right. I was working on an article_ , Keith thought. _I…did freelance, didn’t I?_ He paused at the desk and tried to recall the subject of the article he was supposed to be writing. Did he review food or restaurants? Books? Movies? Perhaps he gave commentary on whatever was thrown on his desk (bad idea, he didn’t have much to say about anything). 

Giving up on that, he attempted breakfast. Perhaps something to eat will bring the memory back. After wolfing down a piece of toast with jam, he rushed back to his desk. 

Here. There was something important about _here_. The papers stacked around him among the surface of the desk held answers—they had to. He was a blank page, and the papers and computer the ink with which he could etch his identity back into existence. 

He traced around the side of the computer, searching for the switch. Finding it, he flipped it on, and sat back, eagerly waiting for the start up. It dragged on for seemingly forever, and he frowned at the black screen. 

“Come on, I have work to do,” he begged under his breath to the computer before the screen mercifully blinked to the desktop wallpaper of the Milky Way. Keith cocked his head to the side in confusion, trying to remember when he had chosen the setting. 

“Maybe I…liked space?” he concluded under his breath, the words shaky and rattling the silence of the apartment. He wondered why he spoke of this in the past tense. The hum of the computer’s tower was the only reply. 

He searched for the desktop icon for the writing program, while in the back of his mind he fretted over the fact that he still did not know what he was writing about. He’d have to go over the pages beside him and take plenty of notes. Perhaps stick a bunch of Post-Its around his computer to remind himself if his memory was still atrocious. But he could not delay his work, if this was bringing in income. 

The computer whirled a little louder as the program started up—how ancient was this model? He shook his head. He only needed to write on this thing, he didn’t need to get a new computer any time soon. 

He stared at the menu bar across the screen as something vague and ancient began to stir in the farthest corner of his memories, and clinging to it a raw poignant emotion. Some laughter echoing in his skull, the clatter of plates or utensils, the warm chatter of companions— _there was once life here._

The computer whined and the mouse tracker froze on the screen. A moment later the entire screen went jet black, jolting Keith back to the present. 

Except he wasn’t staring at his reflection on the blackened screen. He was staring at—

“Shiro!” Keith gasped and pushed himself back. He spun around but Shiro wasn’t standing behind him. He was— _God, I_ am _losing it!_ —in the computer itself, a literal ghost in the machine. Shakily he averted his eyes back to the computer screen. 

Shiro kept his eyes steady on him. There was some sort of sadness deep in them. 

“Keith…” Shiro’s face broke into a sad smile. “Your presence softens my pain.” 

“What are you?” Keith gasped. “Why are you coming back for me already?” 

“Already? Has it been only a day?” 

“Less,” he spat. He didn’t mean to sound harsh and cruel, but two encounters just hours apart had shattered him, and now in broad daylight, this was too much. 

Shiro’s eyes widened, but he gave a nod. “I am sorry, my….I am sorry, Keith. It’s just, I was so glad to know I could reach out to you.” 

“Why me?” 

Again, something stirred in Shiro’s eyes, and it appeared as though his face would dissolve into devastated grief. But he swallowed his emotions and just smiled back at Keith. 

“Seeing you makes me feel alive,” he said. 

“You’re dead.” 

Again the words clearly cut Shiro, and cut him deep, and this time Keith wanted to kick himself. “I’m sorry, Shiro. I don’t know what happened to you, and I—I don’t know how or why you know me. I can’t remember anything from my past.” 

Shiro’s eyes looked downwards for a few long moments. Keith wondered if he had done something to offend him. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Do you want me to stop coming?” 

Keith hesitated. He remembered the previous night. “Why do you keep coming? What am I to you?” 

Shiro had to glance away, and Keith’s own face nearly crumbled into tears. 

“You’re safe,” Shiro finally said. “Please…go out there…I want you to feel…be alive.” 

He didn’t have to say it twice. 

Keith was already out the door before Shiro had completely faded from the screen. His heart hammered in his chest. He stood on the landing of his floor, heaving and wondering if he should go back inside. 

Every inch of his apartment was haunted. 

_No point of working today_ , he thought. 

Call Allura and Dr. Coran. Call anyone. 

All of his telephone numbers were on that sheet he had left for himself. 

He had left reminders. He had things to do. To remember. 

“Damn it, Shiro.” The words hissed out, barely a whisper, in case the ghost could hear him. 

As if the wall and open door protected him from the dead man. 

He descended the stairs. Cleaning detergent met his nose as he reached the ground level. The back door was held open with a door stopper, as was Kielo’s apartment. The doorsteps darkened, dampened with thrown bucket water. 

Keith paused by her door, peering back in. His eyes instantly found the photos of the swan and the porcelain statue, drawn to them. There was another piece of swan memorabilia that she owned, a painting, something that kindled a memory, a knowledge, from the far reaches of his memory. His eyes burned as he stared. 

“Good morning, Keith,” Kielo said as she suddenly emerged with another bucket of dirty, soapy water. “Is everything okay?” 

Keith shot a look back at her and swallowed thickly. He debated how she would react to his complaint of having a ghost problem in his unit. 

“Er, did I give you my rent money?” he asked. 

Kielo’s soft eyes dampened with compassion and sorrow. “Yes, dear. Yesterday morning just before you left. I can remind you when it’s time for your next due.” 

“No, no, I can remember!” Keith said, his face burning with shame. “I wrote what I needed to remember! I just…forgot to grab it.” 

“Would you like to get it before you head out?” Kielo asked kindly, watching him with so much concern that the corners of his eyes pinched with tears. 

Keith glanced back up. Was the computer still on, or did Shiro’s spirit somehow shut it off? 

“I…that’s okay,” he said and made to leave.

But as a thought suddenly struck his thoughts, he paused in his tracks and turned back. 

“You know, the swans in your home…I didn’t mean to be nosy, but do you believe in ghosts? I mean, the Swan in Finnish belief takes spirits to their final resting place in Tuonela.” 

Kielo beamed. “You know of our legend?” 

“I…must have read the Kalevala at some point,” Keith said. The vaguest recollection sat deep in his memory, dust motes dancing in the sunbeams of tall stained-glass windows, someone smiling across the library table. 

Keith shivered back into the present. “What if the Swan misses someone, or that person refuses to go? Do they hide in the cemetery they are buried in?” 

“Is there someone you know who died recently?” 

Keith hesitated. “I…think so. And I think he might be buried in that one.” He pointed, suddenly feeling very young under her compassionate gaze. “I think a…friend of mine is in there. Old school friend. I dunno. But I wanted to be sure. I don’t know where he was buried.” 

“Then you could speak with my friend Lauri,” Kielo said. “You would ask for one Lauri Kinnunen. He’s the church sexton.” 

Keith nodded. “Er, is the cemetery itself for only…” 

“Pine Rivers Cemetery is open for all patrons of the entire town,” Kielo explained. “We’ve got Muslims, Jews, Christians, secular…anyone who has made Goldlake their home has found a resting place here. If you believe your friend is buried in this cemetery, then Lauri may have a record of his grave’s location. I can ask him myself if you would like.” 

Keith took a step back. “Um, maybe another time. Thanks!” 

He rushed out, his feet slapping against the wet steps of the dampened back pavement. As awful as he felt running off like that, he had gotten the answers he needed for now. 

Pine Rivers Cemetery loomed ahead. Atop the large tomb was a tall angel, her stone wings swallowing the sunlight that managed through the canopy of leaves. It looked peaceful and quiet inside, Keith thought, and it worsened his sadness at the idea of Shiro not being able to rest in peace within. 

Locating the front gates, Keith slipped inside. The sense of calm and tranquility settled over his shoulders, and he nearly wept. He wasn’t sure if he was one for faiths and praying. Ghosts were a thing, he supposed, and for others praying served multiple purposes. He couldn’t recall his own relationship with theological and other spiritual matters, but the tranquility over his shoulders was welcome enough after the scare from the night before and the troubling morning. 

“Where are you buried, Shiro?” Keith wondered under his breath. 

He chose a path and searched for what he hoped were some of the more recent graves. Jutting beyond the canopy of trees he could just make out the church. Just run inside, ask for Lauri, get the records. His search could be cut down to half. 

But, Keith realized suddenly with a drop in his heart, he didn’t know much beyond Shiro’s first name. Still, he could search for Japanese names. How big was the Japanese population of Goldlake? 

“Shiro…Shiro…” 

Dried leaves crunched under his feet. What if his name was written in Kanji? He scanned the shapes of tombstones. A cross—was he Christian? Or was his family more traditional? A sigil engraved on another drew his eyes—was Shiro part of the military? Something suddenly clouded his mind as his heart suddenly clenched. 

After stumbling for a moment, he found one tombstone that was more recent than the others surrounding it. 

_Tsuyoshi Seidou_

_March 4, 117 to February 24, 172_

_Beloved husband and father_

Not Shiro, Keith thought, for a number of reasons. The age, the name (unless Shiro was a nickname), and somehow instinct and his two brief encounters told him Shiro wasn’t a father. But he bowed before the tombstone out of respect. The other man had passed just the previous year. 

A cool draft of wind suddenly swept over his shoulders and he flinched. He backed off. Then, after retracting his steps back to the front gates, he left without another glance. 

Another time, he promised the deceased Shiro. If he ever got more information. 

His feet carried him through the streets as if on auto-pilot. He barely registered how the sunlight disappeared and peeked from the canopy of leaves above his head, nor the songbirds high above. The sun rose higher and a prickle of sweat collected at his temples and where his bangs touched his forehead. 

By the time he became aware of his surroundings, it was due to a sudden strong smell of olive oil. 

Sal’s. 

That’s right. It was past lunch time, he realized just as his stomach grumbled irritably. He wasn’t aware of how much time had passed since he had left the apartment, how long he had spent browsing the cemetery, but this was beside the point. He had nothing going on today— _I think_ —and spending some time with semi-familiar faces was more welcoming than going back to his therapists— _Why did I need them?_ —or Kielo or the ghost that awaited him in his computer. 

Sal was on his cellphone yelling and close to ripping his bushy mustache when Keith stepped in. He was always yelling about something, it seemed. Today it was to his kid who apparently got kicked off the team for stealing and hiding a classmate’s prized plush pterodactyl. There was also some pep talk about remaining top of the class; something about the kid threatening to not study for the next test in retaliation for being grounded— _the nerve!_ , Keith thought with mild amusement. 

Hunk was otherwise handling the shop with ease. He took Keith’s orders without ever needing to ask him to repeat himself, even with Sal pounding the counter to accentuate the loud screaming match with his kid on the phone, who was shouting back sass everyone could hear, sass Keith himself would have been mortified to tell anyone the size and girth of a brown bear. And he had some vague recollection of having snapped at a few authorities in his time. 

This must have been a common occurrence because Hunk moved with relative ease. The shouting was as commonplace as the music. 

Lance, on the other hand, walked as if the floor was full of egg shells. He hid behind Hunk whenever he could and tried to make himself as unnoticeable as he could. 

Keith thanked them both, staying only a moment to drink in the obvious affection both had. Even at work, the two gave an unexplainable vibe to their relationship that Keith found himself again envying and longing for. 

Keith sat and averted his attention back to Sal. He watched him with fascination. He didn’t think anyone could ever turn that color. 

_Any moment, he’s going purple._

Beside himself and another customer, they were the only ones at Sal’s at this time. The other customer was completely oblivious to the parent-child verbal showdown. Somehow, Keith didn’t think the massive headphones were enough to block out the noise. Or maybe she was used to the daily Diner and Show of the Saga of Sal and Sal Junior. 

With a snarl, Sal slammed his flip-phone shut and stormed into the backroom, grumbling something in another language. The tapping of the keyboard filled the quiet diner, melding into the Top 40’s radio station. 

Her fingers flew across the keyboard. Keith couldn’t help but turn around and watch her. A single-minded focus on the screen, nothing tore her eyes away, that he even wondered if she remembered to take a bite from her sandwich. 

Keith licked his fingers clean of the tabbouleh and falafel and stood up. He tossed his trash in the designated area on his way. 

“No, I am not a hacker for hire,” she said as a shadow fell over her. Light from the computer screen gave her large, round glasses a glow. 

“But you’re a programmer,” Keith said and invited himself to sit next to her. “I wasn’t looking for a hacker anyway.” 

She stopped and stared at him. “Are you thinking of applying to a college? Computer problems?” 

Keith sighed. Suddenly the idea seemed incredibly foolish. She was a stranger. He didn’t even know her name, and he was going to ask her questions that required a lot of faith in the supernatural. 

“I’m sorry if I’m taking time out of your work…I shouldn’t be here…” 

“No, it’s fine!” she said. “I was just finishing up.” To make him feel better, she typed a few more commands into the file. “And…save. Done for now. It’s been a good five hours! I think I deserve a break! So, what do you need help with? My name’s Pidge, by the way.” 

_Take her offer._

“I have…I have so many questions…” Keith began and stopped again to articulate his thoughts. “Er…how do viruses work?” 

She blinked, taken aback for a moment, then went into a long explanation. Keith listened, but nothing seemed to match his experience that morning. He prodded her brain for more information. 

“What creates a computer virus? How can a computer get infected? Can a virus…present in a particular fashion? Can someone just…get infected remotely? Like, attacked or hacked or something?” 

“Those must have been some sites you went to to get infected that badly,” Pidge laughed at the end. 

Keith sighed heavily. “I’m just trying to figure this out! No, I haven’t been looking at any raunchy sites if that’s what you’re thinking! I had just booted my computer to start working when…when the thing happened.” 

“Want me or my brother to take a look at it?” 

“No…” Keith sighed. “You’re going to think this is crazy, but I think there’s…a ghost in the computer.” 

The corner of her lips twitched in amusement, but she quickly caught herself. “I really doubt that. Why do you think it’s a ghost?” 

“Because I saw that same ghost in my room the previous night,” Keith said flatly. He studied her face, ready to storm out if she laughed at him. She just kept staring, but the skepticism clearly hung about. 

“I shouldn’t have wasted either of our time,” Keith said softly. 

“No! I’m not laughing at you or anything!” Pidge said. “I never had experience with the supernatural, but an absence of personal evidence is not necessarily an evidence of absence.” 

“What?” 

“What I’m saying is, the existence of ghosts have been debated for millennia. You might have seen a ghost. Or, it could all have been a deliberate joke.” 

She motioned for him to sit next to her. He didn’t see which program she had started, but it was one of those social networks, the kind that sent phone calls through the internet. 

Minutes passed. A few seconds later, the black screen lit up to reveal a young man. “Hey, sis!” 

Keith’s eyes shot from the man to Pidge. Similar hairstyles, same nose, the same slight tilt of the head when they waved. 

“Twins?” Keith asked. 

“Near identical genetic makeup, but not twins,” Pidge said. “He’s older.” She turned back to the screen. 

“Hey, Matt, my friend here, er—”

“Keith.” 

“Keith, right, thank you—was wondering about Pepper’s ghost.” 

“I was?” Keith said with a raised eyebrow. Pidge gave him a nod and motioned back to the screen. 

Matt was beaming. “You want to hear the story of how my friends and I sneaked out of the homecoming game and let our ghosts perform with the bang?” 

“Yes,” Pidge said with a laugh. “But without how you got the ghosts to make music. We don’t need to get too detailed.” 

Matt hopped back and spread his arms over his messy studio. 

“All right, so Pepper’s Ghost is an illusion that’s used throughout theaters, amusement parks, and concerts,” he began. “You have a strategically-arranged stage that is split into two rooms: one in which the audience will see, and another adjacent hidden room, which we illusionists call the ‘blue room’. A pane of glass is placed in the main stage, or room, at an angle so that it reflects the view of the blue room. To ensure success, you need to make sure no light can reflect off the glass. 

Normally, you do not see the blue room when there is light in the main room, but when in reverse, the reflection becomes visible to the beholders.”

He demonstrated right within his studio, using a foldable plastic film he claimed to have perfected to make this trick possible anywhere he goes. The results were truly hair-rising. 

“And you can use additional hidden rooms to make as many ghosts as you want, at any angles!” 

He replayed for them his clever ruse back in school, which clearly amused him and Pidge. 

Keith sat back, slightly confused, as he tried to take anything in. “Okay, but why couldn’t you just use holograms?” 

“More expensive, and usually only the military have them,” Matt explained brightly. “But that would be a clever trick! Have your hologram in the blue room, and if anyone comes snitching, they can’t find you!” 

“Okay, and so your theory of a prank…” he asked Pidge after she and Matt had said their goodbyes-for-now and ended the call. 

“Yes, so whoever wanted to mess with you might have gotten his hand at one of those foldable plastic films and turned your room into a stage,” Pidge said. “Matt sells them online. I can ask him to get you one too if you want.”

Keith shrugged. 

“You know, I’ll ask him for one. It’s on me. You never know if you want to hide and make a copy of yourself.” She chuckled again. 

“Still doesn’t explain my computer.” 

“He found a way to hack into your computer,” Pidge said. “I can help you get rid of it and firewall against future attacks.” 

Keith shook his head, his arms crossed. “Somehow…it just doesn’t seem like him.” 

“Still think it’s a ghost, then? A non-Pepper ghost?” 

“I’m sorry,” Keith said. “I know you must think I’m crazy, but…the times when I’ve seen him, he wasn’t trying to frighten me. I was scared, yes. Disturbed, yes. But he didn’t mean any ill. I feel bad for him. But I also feel like I’ve known him from somewhere.” 

“Hmm…” Pidge glanced back at her computer. “Hand me my cord.” 

Keith found it protruding from her bag. She thanked him and struck the laptop to the nearby socket. 

“Looks like I’m not done using you yet,” Pidge said to her laptop with such affection as if it was her pet. She waved to Hunk and ordered two tall glasses of mango juice for herself and Keith. 

“So.” She looked up at him. “Did he give a name? How does our mysterious man look?” 

“Shiro,” Keith said. “He never went further than that. Um, East Asian. Tall. Muscular. Er…handsome.” Pidge shot him a little amused look but said nothing. “No idea when he died. Maybe recently? He didn’t have a vintage hairstyle.” 

“So no perms or 60’s cut, gotcha,” Pidge said. “He must have been a man living here. Goldlake’s population is just shy of a thousand. We can track him down.” 

And yet the search revealed that no Shiro had ever existed in Goldlake. 

“Okay, then, we’ll broaden our search to surrounding cities and towns,” Pidge said. “I won’t add Las Vegas if we don’t have to first.” 

She soared through the search engine, first for obituaries dating as far as ten years back. They found a couple of Shiros who had passed in the past few years, but they had been either in their mid forties or much older. One was an impressive one hundred and one years at the time of his passing. 

“No, my Shiro was definitely young when he died,” Keith said as Pidge kept scrolling, clicking, reading, back-buttoning, adding different search terms, and scrolling some more. 

_I will find you, Shiro_ , Keith vowed. 

Hunk refilled their glasses, free of charge. He had a break with Lance while Sal took care of a pair of customers: a woman and her small child. 

Pidge sighed heavily in frustration after a while. 

“Hey, just an idea…but maybe his legal name isn’t Shiro?” Pidge said after a while. “I mean, there is something here about a Ryou Shirogane who died fifteen years ago in Paradise. He could be your Shiro’s grandfather.” 

Something unsettling began to stir in Keith’s stomach that had nothing to do with the chilled mango juice. “Is that the obituary?” 

“Yeah,” Pidge said and clicked on the link. She scrolled down a short while, and darkness crossed her face. 

“Erm…I think I found him,” she said in a tight voice. She passed the laptop towards Keith. The heading was a bar that remained on top no matter how far down you scrolled. Next to Ryou Shirogane’s name were the dates June 30, 73 to August 8, 158 AF. 

The online obituary was followed by a virtual guestbook where anyone could leave a message and sign with their names. The page was already scrolled down to the one Pidge wanted him to read.

> _Ryou was the best grandfather anyone could ever ask for. If it weren’t for him I would have had a lonely childhood, but he bought me my first telescope and was the reason I fell in love with the stars. Thank you, Grandpa, for everything. You are now a star that shines in the sky._
> 
> **Takashi Shirogane**
> 
> August 14, 158 • Paradise, NV

  
Keith pushed the laptop back towards Pidge, but not before quickly scanning through the other names on the guestbook. There weren’t many other Shiroganes, and those who did respond were all women. The rest had to be either friends or coworkers.

“Well?”

Something about the name felt dead in his stomach, unremarkable and unfamiliar. And yet… 

“He sounds young.” 

“Young fifteen years ago,” Pidge said. “Enough time for him to further develop his interest in the cosmos and enroll in some planetary school, don’t you think?” 

“But he said his name is Shiro.” 

“Could be a nickname,” Pidge said. “‘Pidge’ isn’t my legal name either.” 

She bookmarked the webpage, as she said she wanted to later email Keith all of her findings, and went back to the search engine. Her next search session didn’t last long. 

“Ah…ha…think I found him.” She turned back to Keith with the biggest grin. 

Keith took back the laptop and his heart skipped a beat. 

He had seen this photo before. He wasn’t certain when or how, but he had certainly seen it. And that man, there was no mistaking him, although he appeared younger here. The same eyes, which carried such weight and depth in them, the same kind smile, the same hair style. 

“It’s Shiro,” Keith confirmed. 

A blurb near the photo read: _Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane, class of 160, Valedictorian. Will be attending Galaxy Garrison._

“Thirteen years ago…” 

“Yep!” 

“Thirteen is a Fibonacci number.” 

Keith’s eyes widened along with Pidge’s. He wasn’t sure at all why those words poured out of his mouth.

Pidge shrugged and when she spoke, there was an odd nervous tick to her voice. “Yeah, it is. Good eye!” 

“Er, where did you find this?” 

“At the old school records for Paradise Valley High School.” 

“Galaxy Garrison…a military school has a whole department on astronomy?” Keith cocked an eyebrow as he scanned the image again. “Why would astronomers study science under the military?” 

Pidge shrugged. “Easier to train all pilots under the same roof, astronauts and air force alike, I guess? And you never know if we might get invaded by aliens. The CDC had long ago published articles about what to do in case of alien invasions.” 

“You don’t believe in ghosts but you believe in aliens?!”

Pidge laughed. “Over ten thousand planets with hospitable conditions have been discovered,” she said. “The universe is so vast, I’d be surprised if we were the only intelligent, sentient life in the universe.” 

“I suppose…” 

By that point, Hunk had strolled up to inform them, looking a little shy as he did so, that Sal was getting a little impatient with them using his diner as a conference place. They both gave their pardon to Sal and made to leave when Keith suddenly remembered that he didn’t have an email—or at least, he didn’t recall having one. 

Mortified to say anything of his little problem with memory, he kept his mouth shut to Pidge and pretended it was a matter of having lost his password. 

“No problem, I’ll make you a new account right now that you can use for this saga until you figure out your old account,” she said quickly as the fingers went flying through the keyboard again. “Your new account is thesagaofkeithandshiro-at-yoohoo-dot-com and…here’s your password!” she jotted it on a scrap of paper and gave it to him. He thanked her before the two paid for their mango drinks and took off. 

Despite the mystery still lingering over Shiro, he felt as though a weight had been lifted. There was a name. Although the name did nothing for him, it was a key he could use in his search. He had a lead; that was but one photo in one school record. He could uncover more, from more schools, connect the dots of Takashi Shirogane’s life until he discovered all there was of the ghost’s life, and even more, why certain things tugged on his memory and heart strings the way they did. 

His apartment was, thankfully, void of any ghost when he arrived. He smiled a little sadly, then glanced through his boxes. 

_I really should start unpacking._

He had had enough adventure for the day. Some time to just get his life back in order was not a bad idea. Switching on the radio, as the apartment was too quiet for his liking, he set to work. 

The first two boxes were simple enough, if he had proper places to put everything. He realized he needed a plan on how he wanted his _home_ to look. Once that was settled, the rest was unpacked easily. Soon, photos of his mother decorated the shelves. He vaguely recalled that his mother was often out on mountain climbing adventures, especially based on one photo of them (and the wolf-like dog) standing together and smiling in front of a climbing gym. Keith couldn’t tell how old he was in the photo. Perhaps still in high school. 

_I hated climbing_ , he mused fondly. He wondered if Allura or Dr. Coran had a way to help him retrieve these memories. Maybe there was a phone number for him to reach his mother. She would like that. She might be worried about him.

Keith smiled warmly. 

Static crossed the radio. 

The boxes dwindled down to half. Inside one were a bunch of weird trinkets that he couldn’t quite recognize no matter how much he strained. There was a smartphone inside that he realized he should probably recharge, and a couple of clay-like rocks with imprints on their surface. 

As he studied them, the box tipped from his arm and more of its contents spilled out. Keith bent down to pick up the photo and gasped. 

It was Shiro. He was sitting across from the picture-taker in what appeared to be some diner, and he was wearing a small nervous smile, as if too bashful to have his picture taken. Handsome, shy, a bit of a dork; those were the thoughts that crossed his mind. Keith felt as though his heart skipped a few steps going down the stairs. 

He picked up the photo and turned it around. Written clearly in Keith’s own handwriting, above some weird cross-hatching lines, was _Saturday_. 

“Keith?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kielo Miettinen and Lauri Kinnunen are cameo characters from _A Redtail’s Dream_ , a webcomic you can read here. You don’t need to have any understanding of that canon nor the characters to understand this story. I just needed a couple of characters and decided to yank these two from Minna’s world. :D


	3. I know the pieces fit!

Keith took a few slow breaths before turning around. He had already mentally prepared himself for the next meeting, half-anticipating it. This would be, what, the third incident? 

“Shiro,” Keith greeted plainly. 

Again, Shiro appeared as if a light emitted from within. He shimmered with the same violet glow. Keith was slightly taken aback at how much taller Shiro was than himself, but the man was transparent, so paper-thin that Keith could slide his hand through his broad chest. 

“Keith,” Shiro said, his sad eyes never leaving Keith. “You’re here. I was worried. I’m glad you are fine.” 

“Fibonacci,” Keith said. He held onto the photo in his hand. “The same as before.” He searched the ghost’s eyes for any answers. They had widened at the mention of the name. 

“What do you mean?” Shiro asked tightly. 

“You’re giving me a clue,” Keith said. “The first time you visited me, you spoke entirely in Fibonacci sequence. I’ve run your words through my mind all day today while I was searching for you in the cemetery. You did the same thing just now. You’re carefully structuring each sentence so that the syllables equal the next number of the Fibonacci sequence. 

“ _‘Keith. Keith. You’re here. I was worried. I’m glad you are fine.’_

“One, one, two, three, five. That’s the sequence. If you continued speaking, the next sentence would have contained eight syllables. 

“You’re trying to tell me something. What is it?” 

At those words, Shiro’s eyes widened. Yet Keith swore he saw hope, a flash that crossed those sad eyes, though it was instantly gone. 

“Don’t look for me,” he begged. 

“Why not? I know your full name. Tomorrow I will ask the town’s sexton to look up your plot on the cemetery.” 

Shiro shook his head and took a step back. “Keith, _please_ , don’t look for me!” 

Keith took a step forward. “Then tell me why you keep visiting! What do you want from me? Maybe you just need a visitor and then you can be at peace, you can…move on. Maybe you’re still waiting for the swan to take you, spiritually-speaking, or, or—I dunno. Maybe there’s something you need from me? Want me to bring you any kind of flowers to your grave? If it’ll help you to rest, I’ll do it!” 

He took a tentative step back and watched him closely, wondering how much more he could say to this man. Shiro had curled into himself, a sight that might have been a bit pathetic had Keith not reminded himself to take mercy on him: _he has died; he must have suffered. Take it easy on him._ “I made a new friend today. She thought you could be playing a prank on me.” 

“I would never do that.” 

Those words came out of him so soft and defeated, so automatic, that Keith had to wince at hearing them. 

“I’m sorry. But I promise I will find you, Shiro.” 

Shiro’s eyes widened and he shook his head again, but when he looked up, it was as if a loud sound had suddenly startled him. Pure fear clouded his pale features as he slowly turned his head. Everything drew silent; Keith wanted to ask him what the matter was but everything from the mortified look on his face, his body’s position, and the sudden heavy silence in the apartment unit swallowed his question. 

And then, before his eyes, Shiro’s form faded like the fizzling, dying light of fireworks. 

Keith reached out to grab hold of him, but he was gone. 

A moment later, he realized the radio had also gone silent.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

All Keith could do was to jot everything down on the scraps of paper beside his daybed. He had found the notes for himself from the night before, and decided he needed a notebook for this new project.

He rummaged through a couple boxes without much thought on organizing the contents until he found a notebook that was mostly unused save for a few notes, perhaps left over from college. Half the pens he tried were already dried up, and his notes were in various shades of blue ink, two shades of black (one with a much finer and almost grey ink than the other), and even red, but it would do. Pencils broke under the pressure and shaking of his hand, and he couldn’t be bothered to search through his boxes and desk for a suitable sharpener. 

He transcribed the notes from the scraps. He recorded everything he could recall, every word Shiro had spoken to him the night before, this morning, and just now. He detailed his entire conversation with Kielo that morning, the cemetery and where he had explored, his conversation with Pidge and Matt, the concept of Pepper’s Ghost, the finding of Ryou Shirogane and the high school yearbook. 

“My email!” he gasped and rummaged through his pockets, pulling out Pidge’s note. He jotted the address and password five times so he could remember them, but decided against trying to boot his computer to check the links Pidge had sent him. 

Best not to use this computer if it drew Shiro towards him, he decided. Besides, he knew of another way. 

The following morning, Keith nearly jumped out of the daybed, his mind alight and ready for the day. After breakfast, during which he kept his eyes on the clock and hoped the hands would move faster, he collected his research materials and headed downstairs. 

“Goodness, dear Keith, did I not say I will remind you when your next rent is due—”

“I need Lauri’s contact info,” Keith butt in. 

“Oh!” Kielo’s face softened. “Ah. Of course. A moment, dear.” 

She appeared moments later with a slip of paper with his name written clearly, the address and directions on how to get there, the telephone number, email address, and even the church’s website, which he hadn’t expected to see for some reason. Her eyes shone with warmth as Keith studied the slip, taken aback by her enthusiasm to help. 

“Wow, thanks,” he said before catching himself. “Hey, I—thank you for saying you’ll tell me when my next rent is due. I’ve been writing notes to remind myself. I…I think I should be fine. I’ve been slowly remembering again.” 

“Then I’ll let you know if you’re three days late,” Kielo said.

Keith nodded. “Thank you, again.” He showed her the slip. “I’m going to find where my friend was buried.” 

“I hope you find him,” Kielo said and wished him well. 

The church was located on the other side of town from the library, and Keith didn’t want to waste any more time. It was nearly nine o’clock, and he wanted to be there when the doors opened. 

He didn’t have a mobile phone on him. He must have had one before, but it was probably lost among the boxes and Keith didn’t wish to bother rummaging through them, but thankfully for himself the library had a small vestibule with a set of public phones. 

He dialed the number and steadied his breath. An automated message answered welcoming him to the Saint Hugh of Avalon Church and that Lauri wasn’t at his desk, so please leave a message after the beep. 

_Damn_ , Keith thought and hung up. He couldn’t remember the landline number in his apartment— _I will need to look it up; I don’t even remember hooking up the damn thing!_ —and he didn’t wish to go back home and tie up his hands for the rest of the day. 

Email would do, then. 

He went to the front desk and went straight for Olia. She perked up when he presented _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ back to her. 

“Already finished?” she said with a smile. 

Keith nodded. It was a quick read, and it was the only thing that could quiet his mind while he had prepared for today. 

“I read it before,” he found himself saying, as a memory flashed through his head as it had a few times the night before: legs kicked up before a whirling fan, feeling cooled circulated air on the soles of his naked feet as he sank deeper into the story. 

He checked out one of the library’s laptops and found a quiet spot where he was certain no one else would bother him: near the references. On one side of the wall were a small row of microfiche readers. Near the window was a small display of recommended reads. 

The table was soon filled with all of the supplies he had gathered up from home: notebooks and the pens that still had ink, the slip of paper with his password, a small stack of dusty post-it notes he salvaged from his desk. 

He entered Yoohoo’s main url and had to make a face at the site’s weird mascot, which could be best described as a goofy teal-furred chicken-centipede. 

_This is what draws in over one billion faithful email users_ , he mused as he accessed his account. 

The first email was to thank Pidge for her help the other day and for the references she had forwarded to him. The second was to Lauri Kinnunen. 

He hoped Lauri wouldn’t think odd of him when he read the address Pidge had selected for him. As long as the message itself was professionally stated, perhaps Lauri would forgive him. After all, contact would be either by email or in person. He had no mobile phone number to give. 

_Note to self: find your old damn phone!_ , he jotted on top of his notebook in thick black lines. 

After contemplating the matter for a few moments, he copied the body of the email and began another one. He searched for more churches around Paradise, sought more emails to sextons where he could ask if their cemeteries contained one Shiro. It all took a far good part of an hour or two, but it was well worth it. He wouldn’t lose anything in trying. 

He went went back to Pidge’s sources and sifted through them. He studied the sites he had seen yesterday, then the new ones. Not many new insights. The man was part of the Astronomy Club in school. Mathletes. Chess Club. Awards while in Mathletes and the Chess Club. 

_You nerd_ , Keith thought, but he smiled affectionately. None of the clubs accounted for his build; Keith was sure Shiro would have been in at least one athletic team. 

It wasn’t until he was scouring through every page of the Paradise Valley High School, Shiro’s junior year, when he came upon one photo by accident. Cardio room, Shiro with a dumbbell. 

Ah, so he worked out outside of any gym class or team. He wondered if there was a reason for this: health-consciousness, or perhaps Shiro had wanted to prove physical fitness for an astronaut-training program. Perhaps he didn’t like sports very much. Would he have liked mountain climbing like his mother always did? 

Smiling, Keith shook himself out of his trace, and he screen-captured every photo and uploaded them into his email account’s private drive. 

Further searches through the internet, however, proved futile. Shiro simply didn’t leave much of a mark on the world, no matter how much of a golden boy he was in school. Keith had found only one other source from a school, an elementary school in Paradise. The photo in the yearbook was of Shiro, smiling brightly and looking ecstatic, standing next to his science fair project which had received first place. Next to him had to be his grandfather. 

A shiver ran up Keith’s arms. 

_Both of the people in this photo are dead_ , Keith thought. He stared at the little beaming face. _That little boy is dead._

Sighing heavily, Keith leaned back and turned towards the microfibre readers. A clerk was busy working nearby. 

“Do you need anything?” she asked when she noticed he was looking at her. On her name tag was ‘Romelle.’ 

“How far back does the archive go for your microfilms?” Keith asked. 

“Goodness, I wouldn’t know how far back our archives go!” Romelle said with a light chuckle. “We must have newspapers from before the Floods. Maybe back when this library began using microfilms, although the further back you go the less we have. We lost a lot to the Floods. But I can tell you we regularly update them every six months. It keeps our shelves less crowded. We just finished updating our archives last weekend.” 

— _One month and he’ll begin to adjust here._ —

Keith’s throat tightened. 

“Have you...” he said and stood up. “Do you carry newspapers from Paradise?” 

Romelle nodded. “We’re a tiny town, but we regularly get news from all surrounding cities and towns.”

All the information spun through Keith’s head in such a way that he had to grab onto the chair. “I’ll need as many reels as you can get me, from the most recent to…let’s make it three years back. Can I do that?”

Romelle nodded. “But only one year at a time.” 

Moments later Keith was sitting before a microfibre reader, having moved all of his supplies onto the desk and the table next to him. Searching through reels wasn’t as easy as searching online. He couldn’t just turn up a search command and look up keywords. He had to play it smart, scan for keywords himself in headlines, first paragraphs, and blurbs under images, page by page. It didn’t have to be headline news. Shiro’s death could have been just a tiny paragraph among many, crammed into the daily printed obituaries, a police report among many, deep in the daily news. It could have been on the page where everyone forgot to read, his life and successes forgotten with his death. 

Keith searched for words that could lead him to the mystery of Shiro’s death: young man, accident, tragedy, promising, Galaxy Garrison. 

_What would be the most likely cause of death?_

Accident, suicide, homicide, freak accident, and as he got desperate: drowning, overdose, victim, abuse, dispute, even execution. 

Crime rates were relatively low, and deaths were aplenty across this side of Nevada, often natural deaths, and none brought up the name Takashi Shirogane.

But there were photos after photos of mountains and canyons and valleys and desert trees, invoking the feeling of heat from summers and adventures past, and nearby the fan’s whirl grew steadily louder in his ears.

He was in the back of the van. Every now and again his mother would smile at him from the rearview mirror. Another mountain. Another adventure. 

They seldom stayed in one place after his father’s death. Perhaps his mother had become reckless, but before, she wouldn’t have brought Keith along, and refused to teach him until he was old enough. Until then she had plopped a book onto his lap to keep him busy— _The Hobbit_. Keith had made a face at the cover, but hours later he was begging her to get him the other books. 

By age ten, he had devoured all of Tolkien’s writing and could speak Sindarin and Quenya. The languages of J.R.R. Tolkien’s world fascinated Keith, but it didn’t end there. There had also been Klingon, Na’vi, and Fremen, the latter of which was a descendent of a real world language. From Fremen, he moved on to learning Arabic, Hebrew, then Spanish, and Italian, and Latin, and German, and Icelandic, and Old English. 

“That should be ‘Quenta Silmarillion.’” 

“Pardon?”

Keith’s eyelids fluttered before he pushed himself up. He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep before the microfibre reader. Romelle was still nearby; she had taken all of his stuff and brought it closer to him. 

“You were asleep,” she said unnecessarily. “Someone could have taken your stuff, and the library’s not responsible for any lost items. What do you mean by—”

Keith pointed to the book on display by the tall window. It overlooked the traffic and some trees. 

“I remember reading this,” Keith said, although the night before he never had any recollection of who J.R.R. Tolkien was or any of the books he had written. “It wasn’t ‘ _The_ Silmarillion.’ It was ‘ _Quenta_ Silmarillion.’ Wait…there were other tales. This was an anthology, I remember it now. It was split into five parts. Ainulindalë. Valaquenta. Quenta Silmarillion. Akallabêth. Of the Rings of Power.” 

Romelle nodded slowly. “Okay… _Mae govannen_?” 

“ _Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo_ ,” Keith said, startling both himself and Romelle. Her ears perked. 

“That sounded perfect!” she said. 

“Yeah…” _But I don’t remember knowing or learning Quenya. I don’t remember anything._

He stood up as the thoughts began to rush through his mind again. He knew languages. He could recollect conlangs he had learned for fun at a young age—legs perched up on the table of their humble and small RV while his mother read from her maps or grilled cheese sandwiches for them outside—words no other tongues today spoke, ancient and forgotten languages, long forgotten scriptures, cuneiforms—

— _His skills would be very useful here_ —

— _Grinning, he slid the folded slip of paper to the student, their fingers brushing behind the instructor’s back_ —

“Sir!” 

Gasping, Romelle grabbed hold of him before his head collided with the reader. 

“You’re dizzy,” Romelle said. “I’ll get you some water.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Keith returned to his apartment feeling unsuccessful despite the great breakthrough in memories. His arms were laden with books he had decided to check out, though none of which contained information about Shiro.

“I didn’t know this about me yesterday,” Keith said under his breath as he glanced at the copy of _The Silmarillion_. “Did you, Shiro?” He called out Shiro’s name again, a little louder, but Shiro didn’t respond. 

Some looping wires were poking out from a box, and Keith sifted through its contents, pulling out two mobile phones. He frowned. 

“Were one of these yours, Shiro?” he wondered out loud. “If so, why do I have your phone?” 

One was visibly more destroyed. It had a small rubber ornament attached to the side in the shape of Saturn. Touching it sent a shiver down his back. He shuffled for the recharger and plugged the phone in, hoping with the state the phone was in, it wouldn’t blow up in his face. When a few minutes passed and nothing happened, he hunted for a second charger for the other phone. 

He picked up the photo from before, the one of photo-shy Shiro. The “Saturday” scribbled on the back was clearly Keith’s own writing. 

The hatch-marks underneath were more easily identifiable than ever before. 

Akkadian. 

He could not remember what the words meant. In time he could maybe draw them back to the forefront of his mind, just as how he had done with Quenya. 

He studied the photo again. 

_What were you to me? What were we, together?_

_Why don’t I remember you dying?_

_Why are you so concerned about my wellbeing? Why do you keep checking up on me?_

He searched through his desk for the envelope and then picked up his landline phone. So it _was_ connected. He didn’t have any recollection of doing that. 

“Juniper Psychiatry and Behavioral Health, this is Flo speaking, how may I be of assistance to you today?” 

“This is Keith. I need to speak with Allura or Dr. Coran.” 

A brief pause. “Certainly, Keith. One moment, please.” 

He didn’t have to wait long. 

“Keith, how are you doing?” came Allura’s voice after the hold music broke. 

“Allura.” Keith took a big breath. “Memories…what can cause memories to return?”

“Well…it can be anything, especially something that invokes a strong emotion in the patient. Say they taste a dish similar to their mother’s cooking and they can recall a childhood memory, often associated with that stimulus. It can be good or bad.”

“I see. What if it’s something very dear to the person, but no matter how many times he’s exposed to the…stimulus…he cannot recollect anything connected to it?” 

“Well…” He noted the hesitation in her voice before she answered. “Then we can assume the patient has actively repressed the memory and continues to do so. Something traumatic may be associated with the stimulus and the patient—Keith, are you sure you’re alright? Would you like to come see me?” 

“I—I’m fine. I will call you if I need another appointment,” Keith said hurriedly and hung the phone up. 

He got to his feet. The pieces were starting to fall into place. 

He needed to make one more phone call. He could spend the night going through all of the envelopes and paperwork in his boxes, but he didn’t want to make a greater mess. It would be Plan B, _if_ this idea didn’t work out. 

He was looking for Dr. Ryner’s office number when his stomach rumbled. He looked up. It was deep in the afternoon and he still hadn’t had lunch. 

He ran back to the phones. He picked the first one up and pressed the button. It had a locked screen for just a few split seconds before it unlocked before his eyes. 

_Face recognition_ , he realized. _This is my phone._

Yet it had no photos in his album. No notes, not even a list of groceries. He was signed off his email account, and there was no telling what social media he used to have. 

It looked like, for all intents, like the phone had been completely wiped clean. 

_But it recognized my face. That makes the Saturn one…_

The other phone had cracks running across it. He pressed the button, and it thankfully didn’t explode. It came up to a screen, a photo too distorted to guess what it was from the cracks, requesting a six-digit passcode. 

“Damn it, Shiro,” Keith hissed. He tried the numerical equivalents of “Shiro” or “Keith”—too few numbers. “Takashi”—too many. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. “What’s your passcode, Shiro?” 

He paused, then laughed. He was yelling at a dead man. 

“What’s his birthday?” he wondered aloud. “Damn it, two digits each for the month, day, year…it would fit!” 

He paused, then after a brief vain hope, input his own birthday. Failed again. 

The little Saturn ornament bobbed as he typed random numbers. 

“Wait a minute…” 

He spelled out the letters of Saturn on the keypad: 7-2-8-8-7-6. 

The screen unlocked. 

“Shiro…you nerd.” 

His eyes fell on the photo album, and his heart shot to his throat. The phone was still charging at 21%. 

He clicked on the album. It was already set at some random image, and his heart skipped a couple beats. The two of them were smiling as they stood, as some red canyons were visible behind them. 

— _Writing in Linear B on a tiny section on the wall, hand on the shoulder_ —

Keith jolted himself from his reverie. He couldn't’ access the rest of the photos. 

_Pidge can help_ , he realized. And if he found her at Sal’s, he could kill two birds with one stone.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Lance was the first to look up when Keith entered.

“Hey man, I was beginning to wonder if we lost our new regular,” he said with a grin. 

Keith found Pidge just settling in and ran towards her. 

“I’m sorry, but I need your help again,” he said. 

She grinned. “That will be double. The first time was for free.” 

“Are you being serious?” If she was charging, he didn’t mind paying. He _was_ eating up her time. 

Pidge snorted. “Nah. What do you need? Any luck in finding out more about Takashi Shirogane?”

“It’s become another search,” Keith said. _I’m trying to find out more about myself._

He explained the situation, and in no time Shiro’s phone was connected to hers as she did her magic. 

As Keith waited for his meal (thankfully Sal was in a better mood, or he had finished all of his shouting earlier on), he pulled up the phone number for Dr. Ryner’s office again. 

His phone was running on a quarter of full power; the tiny clock showed that it was past five o’clock. The doctor herself may not be in, but some of the other staff may. And this was his only chance. 

Might as well try to strike a third bird with that stone. 

He called the main line, and pressed the key for medical records. 

“Keith, this might take a while, is that okay?” Pidge asked. 

Keith nodded. “I’ll give you my number in a bit.”

He seemed to be on hold forever before the technician picked up. Keith couldn’t catch the name, but he thought it sounded like Rax. 

“What do you need assistance with today?” he said in a tone that was half-aggressive. Good, Keith could actually use this to his advantage. 

“I need a copy of all of my medical records,” Keith said. 

“How soon do you need it?” 

Lance had just brought his order, and Keith grabbed his wrist. 

“Do you have a fax machine here?” 

Lance threw a look at Hunk and they both stared back at Keith with uneasy looks. 

“We do, yeah,” Lance said. “We get catering orders, or some businesses might fax their orders to us. Why?”

“Can I have the number? I need a medical office to fax something to me.” 

“Er—well—eh—”

Hunk rushed forward. “Here.” He jotted the number down on a napkin. “I’ll keep my eye open for it. If Sal sees it and fires me, it’s on you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Keith said and thanked them both. He forwarded the number to Rax, who had grown very impatient with him during his chat with Lance and Hunk and was about to hang up. 

“Date of birth? Name? How far back do you need the records?”

He gave his date of birth and name. 

“I need everything. Appointments. Labs. Anything you have on me, as far back as you can go.” 

“Our facility keeps records for ten years from your last appointment.” 

“Fine. Just give me everything you have.” 

There was the strangest pause on the other end. 

“You said Keith Kogane, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“Date of birth October twenty-third of one-forty-four. Previous residence 610 Yurakon Drive in Paradise, Nevada?” 

“…Yes.” _So that’s where I used to live._

“How many times have you changed your last name?” 

Ignoring the rude tone, Keith’s eyes trailed back towards Shiro’s phone lying hooked into Pidge’s laptop and felt ice seep up his legs. 

_The pieces fit._

“As many times as I wanted,” he said though he didn’t think he sounded convincing. 

His dinner was watery and tasteless on his tongue despite the generous helpings of garlic, olive oil, and sumac on his chickpeas, anxious as he was for the fax to come through. He was ready to call the office at any moment and hound Rax until he released all of his medical records. Lance kept shooting him worried looks. Keith realized he must have appeared a nervous wreck to everyone. 

To keep himself occupied, he tried to make his phone a little more homely. He downloaded the Yoohoo app and signed into his most recent email account— _might as well be signed in here._ When the fax was still late, he sifted through background images for his phone and settled on one with red mountains. A flash of memory, him and his mother standing outside their RV; his throat dried up. 

He nearly gagged when Hunk suddenly appeared next to him and whispered, “Hey, the fax came in. Told you I was keeping a careful eye.” 

Keith nearly snatched it off his hands while thanking him multiple times. He might have paid them twice. He couldn’t keep things straight in his head. 

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay?” Lance asked while watching him from the door. “Do you need someone to talk to?” 

Keith thought of Allura and Dr. Coran and shook his head. He gave Pidge his mobile phone’s number and was out the door. 

He needed to do this here, in his own apartment. If he had a breakdown, Kielo might be able to hear him. He could call the hotline the Juniper clinic had given him. But he needed to find the truth here while he was alone. 

His hands shook so much he was worried about ripping the sheets of papers. 

The first page was his most recent document. The name “Keith Kogane” was clearly written. But Dr. Ryner’s notes made him pause: 

_Keith insisted we use this surname from hereon. Upon respect and request we will comply. It appears he goes under this name now, and has changed on all of his official documentations to reflect this._

There was more, but Keith’s mind had stopped being able to focus. He’ll have to go over it again later. 

So the change was recent. Frowning and after taking several steadying breaths, he flipped to the oldest record they had on file, on December 163. 

Keith Koh. 

His eyebrows knitted together and he sat back. There was nothing in his apartment to suggest his ethnicity. He hadn’t stopped to think much on it; his father and himself weren’t very much culturally Japanese, or Korean as the case was. And his mother—Krolia was her first name, but it was a name she had given to herself, and Keith wasn’t too sure of her ethnicity (nor had he ever bothered to ask.) 

Koh. _Ko_ gane. 

_The pieces fit._

Languages. Did he speak Korean at all? Didn’t he know Japanese? 

— _His hand brushed over the blank page, practicing the hiragana character again and again. The man’s hand over his wasn’t much older than himself._ —

_The pieces fit._

His chest tightened to the point of suffocation. Keith flipped through the pages. His surname remained as Koh until August of 164. He didn’t even have to read the name for himself, but it still chilled his very core all the same: 

Keith Shirogane. 

He swallowed thickly. 

_The pieces fit._

The rest of the records had the same name after, all save for the most recent one, the one where he had asked Dr. Ryner and Shay that he would be known as Keith Kogane.

“What happened?” he mouthed dryly. He didn’t remember any of this, definitely not the nine years when he was known as Keith Shirogane. 

His phone began buzzing and he hurriedly fished it out of his pocket. 

 

`WTH Keith, you didn’t tell me you knew Takashi?!`

 

The photos that followed from Pidge only made his heart sink further. 

Some were photos Shiro had taken while they were pressed together for the camera, others were by others while borrowing Shiro’s phone. More photos of them in places that were only vague shadows in Keith’s memories. Photos of their wedding day—a photo of Shiro fondly gazing at Keith as he was looking away at something, or a photo of Keith gazing up at Shiro as if he were the silver moon. Photos of them with Krolia. With people who could be on Shiro’s side of the family, vaguely familiar faces. Mini videos of them kissing, anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, vacations, silly moments. Both wearing the Garrison uniform, taking a silly selfie in the military school’s library. 

It was an entire lifetime of memories place in this phone, and it had all been wiped out of existence from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a trigger warning in the next chapter, so please read the author note on top if you have triggers and need a little heads up. Thanks! <3


	4. I hope you choke!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive trigger warning for this chapter. Possible spoilers but read on for rape/non-con warning: There will be a moment, somewhere in the middle of the chapter, where there are a jumble of memories being interpreted as rape. There is more going on to these scenes, _but_ the scene itself may still be too intense for some, so fair warning for those who need it! Just wanted to give the heads up!  <3 
> 
> Bits and pieces are lifted straight from the song “Ticks & Leeches.”

Keith felt as though the entire world had come crashing down around him. This was why Shiro’s name tasted so familiar on his lips. How many times had he said it, called it, whispered it lovingly, cooed it, moaned it, cried it out? 

The feeling of arms around him, of missing those arms—they were Shiro’s all along. 

Wiping the tears away, he went back to the photo of Shiro looking a little shy at the camera. He flipped it over, stared at the Akkadian script. It was his favorite script to use whenever he wanted his thoughts to be truly private. But he didn’t need to translate it anymore. 

Looking at the photo, it was almost as if he was reliving that day, and the words came pouring back out of his mouth. 

_Saturday — I think I am falling in love with him._

“Shiro?” Keith called out in a broken voice. “Shiro? Where are you? Shiro, please come back. Speak to me.” 

With a painful sharp jab, the words finally began to sink in: _He is dead. My husband passed away._

But the apartment was deathly silent. He ran to the bathroom, turned on the faucet for a want of some sound to pour into the apartment. His legs wobbled, and he gripped hold of the sink’s edge lest he collapsed. 

He remembered that face, how light shone whenever he smiled, remembered the scent of his cologne, his hand on Shiro’s cheek after they kissed on their wedding day. 

_Oh, God, he’s dead, my husband’s dead. Shiro is dead, oh God oh—_

He shrieked into his hand as grief and devastation came down as a tidal wave. The memories came flooding, mercilessly, unwanted—he didn’t want to remember him, didn’t want to be reminded of how deeply he loved this man. 

_How? How did you die? Shiro, oh!_

He slid down to the floor and wailed loudly, not caring if Kielo or any of the tenants heard him. He had lost someone dear to him. He had lost Shiro, and he didn’t know why, or how, or why he was here trying to live a new life under a new name, pretending none of it had happened.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

He refused to sleep that night. In case Shiro came by, he wanted to see him again, match his ghostly image to the photos and to the broken fragments in his memory. So he spent it sitting up on his daybed, poring over the books he had gotten from the library.

He played a game with himself. Picking up a book he willed his memory to remember the first line. He knew _The Silmarillion_ like the back of his hand, and even after years he could nearly recite the first paragraph alone by heart; Tolkien’s writing and mythology had always fascinated him, and he had to feel a kinship with a man from ages long past who loved languages as much as Keith. 

_Dune_ was another favorite, for it was what led him to studying Arabic and ancient Semitic languages. 

The other books were more for research. One was on the Garrison. Not that Keith anticipated any major revelation. The book itself was more a basic introduction to the military institution, but it was all Keith needed. 

And yet, his eyes couldn’t help but wander to the backgrounds of photos as if some mild hope still lingered that he would find Shiro among them…

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

“His skills would be an invaluable asset to us, yes.”

Keith glanced at his mother, who stood with her arms folded. She didn’t seem to like the idea as much as he did, but he knew she wouldn’t stop him from doing whatever he wished. Not being bound to any cage was her personal philosophy. 

“What do you think?” she asked him later on when they were alone. 

“I would like to do it,” Keith said. “We’re not in war, and if we were, they wouldn’t need me that much.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

“Linear B, eh?” Keith looked up from the textbook. A young man about his age sat across from him in the library. He studied Keith’s book and notes with interest.

“Linguistics unit,” Keith said. He wasn’t one to show off to others, but there was something in the way this man was studying him. “I already knew about twenty languages, including a couple of dead ones, and not counting any fictional conlangs, and they were impressed, so…I got a scholarship.” 

“That’s excellent,” the man said. “So they’re having you study more dead languages?” 

“Yeah,” Keith said with a smile. “They’re thinking I could help them translate codes or other unfamiliar scripts they come across.” 

“You can decode some alien words in the future,” the man chuckled. 

_Dork_ , Keith thought. “What are you in?” 

“Astrophysics Unit,” the man said. 

“Why would the military want a branch in—ah, aliens?” 

The man nodded. 

“Dork.” This time there was no sense of hiding it. “Are you trying to infiltrate Area 51?” 

The two chuckled. 

“Or they’ll put me in space,” the man said. “I’m Shiro, by the way. Well—Takashi Shirogane, but everyone calls me Shiro.” 

“Keith Koh,” Keith said and shook his hand. 

Silence followed as Shiro rolled around a question in his mind. “Keith, I was wondering, have you studied Japanese?” 

“No.”

“Oh? Why not?” He leaned forward. 

Keith shrugged. “Japanese is its own branch in the language family tree, with no ancestral or related languages to make it interesting for me to look into.”

“Oh. Okay then.” 

Shiro leaned back, looking hurt, and that was when it occurred to Keith: _He’s trying to flirt with you, stupid._

Immediately, he threw his hand over Shiro’s. 

“I meant, back then. But…I wouldn’t mind learning it now,” he said, and to his relief, Shiro smiled.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Groaning, Keith shifted away from the bright ray of sun pouring into his unit. There was a crick in his neck from the odd angle he had dozed off at.

He glanced about himself, disappointed that it was morning, that he had fallen asleep, and that Shiro was no where around. 

He picked up his phone to check the time, and found an email alert waiting for him. 

It was from Lauri.

> Keith, 
> 
> Thank you for your email. My condolences to you. I will look into your inquiry and notify you if there are any updates. 
> 
> Regards, 
> 
> Lauri Kinnunen

My condolences to you. Keith drew in a long sigh. After last night, that dream, and now this message, he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

He sent a message to Pidge apologizing for not getting back to her sooner. 

Her reply came quite soon after.

`Hey, it’s okay! I was worried. `

Squeezing his phone, Keith decided to come clean about his memory issues, and so he spent a good few moments texting about his recent problem to her. 

`I’m so sorry, man. Do you need me to be there?`

Keith smiled sadly at her message, touched. 

`No, I’ll be fine.`

He pocketed his phone and got to his feet. 

He wasn’t sure how he was going to feel better after this. In hindsight everything now made sense. The two phones, Shiro’s photo, Shiro’s words to him. 

But why the gaps in memory? 

_Don’t look for me._

“Afraid I can’t do that,” Keith said under his breath. “It’s hard when I’ve fallen hard for you a second time…” 

Pidge stopped by after Keith was done with his shower. After texting on and off throughout the morning, he finally gave in and sent her the address to his apartment.

“So, trusted me enough to not be a serial killer in disguise?” she said with a little perk of her lips when he opened the door. And then—“You haven’t unpacked?” 

They settled in Keith’s small kitchen as he prepared them both coffee and a quick breakfast. She presented him Shiro’s phone, virtually good as new. She also had a small box of the foldable plastic film Matt had shown them before and refused to take it back. 

“No, it’ll be cool to have around!” she had insisted. 

She rattled excitedly about how Matt and she had worked to replace the phone screen. 

“Thanks,” Keith said, beyond words for gratitude. “I really should pay you for something.” 

Pidge raised her coffee mug. “Best brew in Goldlake!” 

His finger brushed over the home button, and the lock screen flashed on, no longer distorted. 

“His lock screen picture is me…” 

His bangs fell over his eyes as he studied the image. He couldn’t recall how old he was when the photo was taken, or where. The smile belonged to a man living in his own utopia, a man who had everything he needed, whose eyes twinkled because he was gazing towards his universe.

This was what Shiro carried with him, what he saw each time before he accessed his phone. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Pidge placed a hand over his. Keith nodded slowly. 

“I can’t say I’m grieving all over again, because I don’t ever remember losing him,” he said in a hollow voice. “But I remember him. I remember some parts of him, and it’s enough to make it all hurt. I remember a little bit of our lives together. We were so happy. We were married nine years, just a few months after graduating from the Garrison. We met in our first year there. We knew each other for…thirteen years, then.” 

“Thirteen—”

“—is a Fibonacci number.” 

“And a bad omen, if you believe in that,” Pidge added while watching him closely. 

Silence followed. 

“I still don’t know why Fibonacci keeps coming back to me,” Keith said softly. “He was into the stars. I was into ancient languages. I don’t see where Fibonacci comes in.” 

Pidge shrugged. “Must have been an inside joke? Have you seen his ghost since you remembered?” 

“No,” Keith said and didn’t elaborate, and Pidge didn’t press any further. 

He was thankful for having her around. They discussed the boxes and where to put all of his—or perhaps his and Shiro’s—belongings. Books tucked onto the shelves, and on one side of the closet in the short hall opposite the bathroom. Map of Nevada, keys to a hoverbike (Keith didn’t recall where it was), also on the shelf. Office supplies under the desk. Look through them later; focus on the bigger stuff first. Goodness, how long were the clothes folded up in here? It was a vastly more mundane conversation than that of ghosts and Fibonacci and dead husbands, but it was welcoming. Something normal. 

After Pidge left, Keith decided to dig through the rest of the boxes, see what else may grant him back more missing pieces of his life with Shiro. 

The hours passed. His unit slowly transformed into a more habitable and welcoming abode, filled with the remnants of his and Shiro’s old life. Little trinkets which brought back memories, and all the mundane moments that would flutter past his mind, simple and boring yet precious and priceless. The way the sun fell over the tuft of his dark hair, the way his lips would curl as he read something amusing. 

Little by little, he memorized every tiny morsel he could grasp back of the man he had fallen in love with, from their first meeting, to their wedding, to whatever glimpses he could perceive of their nine euphoric years together. One memory led him back to the radio; he tinkered with the dial until he found a station that filled the room with the sort of music Shiro had always played as he worked. 

Yet as his heart grew fonder, grief also grew and overshadowed his thoughts, as the knowledge still remained that somewhere, that man lay cold beneath the ground. And no matter what, Keith couldn’t remember what had led to the man’s death. 

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe his spirit knew it had distressed him, to the point that it required him to change residence, and to seek therapists for his memory loss. Maybe Shiro just wanted to make sure Keith was all right before leaving this world completely. 

_But I want to at least say goodbye_ , Keith thought, teary-eyed, as he placed some more books in the hallway closet. He glanced into the bedroom as a terrible shiver ran up his spine. 

He couldn’t step inside. He refused to be anywhere near that bed. 

_Wait—why does it make me feel sick to my stomach?_ he wondered. 

He peeked inside. A few boxes were tossed on the bed, but otherwise he could easily clean it up and use the room. And yet his entire body felt as though he had fallen into ice when he stepped inside. 

Frowning, he peered around for the answer. Perhaps he could call Juniper and speak with either Allura or Dr. Coran about this, or…

_It’s probably nothing_ , Keith thought. _I shouldn’t be scared of everything. You weren’t always like this._

He kicked one box open, then soon was hanging clothes into the closet even as his heart continued to hammer anxiously in his throat. Music continued to drift from the living room, and Keith focused on that. He hummed to give some noise to the room. 

The bed was soon cleared, and Keith decided to plop himself over it; he had been working non-stop, and a little break wouldn’t help. The bedsprings gave easily under him. The pillow and mattress were so soft underneath him that he almost had to laugh for how much his heart had been panicking over this bed earlier. 

_Why are you scared of being here?_ he wondered to himself. He lifted his head and parted his legs. He wondered how Shiro’s hands had felt on his thighs. His memories only gave the briefest of snippets, and it was perhaps uncomfortable doing this, trying to remember the sexual intimacies with someone who had passed, but he couldn’t help but be curious. Wouldn’t he be able to recall the most emotionally intense moments between them? 

_We must have been so deeply in love…_

How wonderful had Shiro made him feel? His head moving expertly between his legs, his tongue slipping into his folds, tongue deep, sucking him to climax, his fingers coaxing him over the edge. Keith stretched flat on his back and tried to remember, tried to recreate those moments, the mouth, the tongue, the hands, Shiro’s warm breath on his neck, his weight over him, heavy and hot and heavenly in every way possible. 

Keith sighed as he imagined Shiro inside him— _this is what I was missing_ —their fingers entwined over his head as he felt his husband thrust deeper into him, the tears in their eyes like sparkling stars as they gazed at one another. 

Smiling, Keith sank lower in the bed, letting out Shiro’s name with a sigh mixed with longing and grief. 

Suddenly pressure seized his throat. 

It was as though a great vast weight crushed his throat into the mattress, as though large hands curled around his neck. He gasped, screamed though it came out gargled. 

— _I hope you choke!_ —

— _No, no_ —

His hair was being pulled. He was yanked off the bed. Thrown against the wall. 

Something thick and wet drove in his mouth. 

— _Suck it, suck it dry!_ —

Shiro was grabbing his hair as he drove into his mouth. Keith grabbed onto his thighs, but something was wrong. His stomach turned. 

— _Suck it—you little parasite!_ —

Pain shot through Keith. His throat, his neck—they ached and he couldn’t breathe. Someone was ripping his head back; he thought he could see Shiro’s face contorted in rage; were they arguing?—was this another vision?—

— _I hope you’re choking, I hope you choke on this!_ —

He looked up; he had never seen such malice in Shiro’s eyes. 

— _Shiro, no!_ —

Keith jolted out of his trance. He had fallen off the bed in a cold sweat, and was only now able to breathe. He took in deep gulps of air, then focused on steadying his breathing. His heart was still hammering in his chest by the time he managed to clamber out of the bedroom. His legs had turned to jelly and he needed to keep one hand on the wall to support himself. 

He glanced back when he was outside. 

_Is this why I feared the bed?_ he wondered. _Is this why I couldn’t remember? No, no…Shiro wasn’t like that…he’d never…no…_

He fell over the daybed and pulled Dr. Ryner’s notes towards him. The latest notes on him had mentioned the passing of Shiro, but nothing of the state of their relationship. Only that Keith’s behavior was starkly different from the previous appointment. 

He flipped to the previous note. Then the next. Then the next. Nothing was amiss. Shiro was with him that day, and the one before, and the one before, always the supportive and present husband. Apparently Shiro accompanied him on appointments, just as his mother once had (his father didn’t live long enough to see Keith’s first appointment, although he knew and supported Keith’s gender, and was the one to help name him). The notes were clean regarding Keith’s emotional assessment. Despite the peculiar living arrangements, he had full family support. He had love. He had a caring network. He was living the epitome of happiness, envy of many. 

No signs of bruises or Keith acting weird or Shiro acting off. And Keith knew Dr. Ryner to have a sharp eye. She cared deeply for her patients, and their mental and emotional wellbeing were just as vital as their physical. She would have picked up on something if it had been there. 

_Unless Shiro was really good at wearing a mask, or I was really good at hiding the abuse._

The radio continued to play the music that once filled their old home, music that Shiro liked best. 

His stomach lurched. 

Without another thought, he grabbed the phone. 

“Juni—”

“Are you taking any walk-ins today?” 

It took all of Keith’s strength to hold it together throughout the conversation. His hands shook terribly, and somehow Flo’s sweet and patient voice was making it harder to keep it all in. 

“They can see you in an hour,” she said. “Will that be a good time?” 

Keith nodded, remembered he was on the phone, loudly confirmed and gave his thanks, and hung up before releasing a shuddering breath. 

“Keith…Keith…what’s wrong…are you okay?” 

Keith jumped to his feet and swung around. Only moments later he realized what he was pointing at Shiro: a hanger. He must have been holding onto it since he left the bedroom. 

Shiro studied the hanger with confusion before turning back to Keith. 

“What happened? You seem a bit anxious.” 

“Did I murder you?” Keith demanded shakily. 

Shiro’s lips parted, but he said nothing. 

“Did you abuse me, Shiro? Did you abuse and rape me, and did I finally snap and kill you? Is that why I cannot remember any of this?” 

Something tragic broke in Shiro’s eyes as he cocked his head to one side. “Keith, I would never…you know me.” 

“I thought I did,” Keith said, fighting not to cry. “But then I had memories that…you were hurting me.” 

He anticipated anger, but Shiro just stayed. The sadness on his face was perhaps worse to witness. 

“How?” 

The question came soft and gentle, inviting and patient. Not the Shiro in his visions. 

_Or he was very good at wearing a mask_ , the back of his mind said. But then why would a ghost seek to control his surviving victim? 

Keith searched his eyes before making his decision. While staring right into Shiro’s eyes, he recounted everything. Shiro listened intently as his entire form, terribly beautiful and haunting, fizzled in and out of focus occasionally. 

When Keith was done, Shiro lowered his head and gave a little nod in acknowledgement. 

“Keith,” he said slowly. “Everything you saw in those visions were real. But you are remembering them out of context, and out of order.” 

“I need to be sure,” Keith said. “I’ve never seen you so angry. Were you really…”

Shiro nodded. “But it wasn’t at you. I cannot say more, Keith. But you have to trust me. We argued, that’s normal, but I never said those words to you. I would never do anything to hurt you.” 

_Trust me…_

He took a step forward, and Keith reacted instinctively. He threw the hanger in his hand, and it shot through Shiro. It struck the radio, and Shiro vanished like smoke, his eyes widened as if he was physically hurt. 

“Shiro!” Keith gasped. The unit rang silent. 

He fell to his knees and let a few tears fall, allowing himself the emotional release. Then, getting to his feet, he made his way to the radio. He cussed under his breath as he observed the damage. It was an old radio, and it didn’t take the hit well. 

“Shiro?” 

No reply.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Keith sat fidgeting in the waiting room. Flo still had on a set of jewelry that made her look like she had took a dive into a mermaid’s treasure trove. It was oddly calming to observe; it made him think of the sea: smooth waves, seagulls in the distance, warm sun, a refreshing drink in hand.

Dr. Coran was the one to fetch Keith this time. Allura was already looking through his chart when they settled into the office. 

“May I have a copy of my medical records?” Keith asked. 

Allura paused. Coran shot her a nervous look. 

“I’m afraid the law does not allow patients access to their psychiatric records,” Allura said. 

Keith heaved a sigh. He had expected as much after researching a bit into it while in the waiting room, but it was worth a try nonetheless. “Can you at least answer some questions?” 

“What seems to be the matter?” Dr. Coran asked. 

“Why…how…” Keith sighed deeply. “How did I end up a patient here? I’ve been recovering some of my memories, but some things are still not clear.” 

“Ah, well…someone was really worried about you,” Dr. Coran said after another glance at Allura. Keith thought of Kielo. 

“Was I raped by my husband?” 

_“What?”_ Allura dropped her pen. 

Keith bore his eyes into hers. “Was I raped by Shiro? Was I abused by him? Please, I need to know. I was having visions. So many of them. I…saw things that…he was so angry and violent, the words he said…but he’s not the Shiro I remember.” 

“Perhaps it was just a nightmare, Keith.” 

“I wasn’t asleep!” Keith spat. “I was lying in bed, I was trying to remember, and then…all those visions came into my head.” 

“How many of them?” Allura picked up her pen off the floor and dusted it off. “Tell us exactly what you saw.” 

And for the second time, Keith retold his vision. He also shared the previous memories he had been gaining back, of his mother, their adventures, the languages he loved to study, and of course, of Shiro and how they had met. 

Allura jotted it all down while Dr. Coran asked him more questions. They examined which objects had been the trigger for those memories. 

“And so the bed triggered these memories?” Dr. Coran asked. 

Keith nodded. “And…” There was no point in being embarrassed about this issue here with them. “I was imagining what sex had been like with him.” 

Allura nodded in understanding as she jotted that down. 

“And that’s when it all happened?” Allura asked. 

Keith nodded. “I…” 

He didn’t want to tell them about the ghost. He’d end up in a hospital after that. He had to choose his next words carefully. 

“I want to make peace with everything,” he said. “I have a strong suspicion my husband has died, although I do not know where he is buried. I have sent requests to sextons in the area and back in Paradise to help me find where he was laid to rest. But I want to face up to what happened to me. If my husband did abuse me, I want to know. I’d rather deal with it than have it hanging over my head forever. If he did it.” 

“You seem hesitant,” Dr. Coran said. 

“Yeah. Something about this vision makes me suspect I got a huge surge of memories, and they’re all tangled up in there,” Keith said. “And…Shiro didn’t seem like the kind. I know that must be said of all abusers, but…I _knew_ him.” 

Allura gave a nod as she wrote the last note. “Thank you, Keith. If you’ll excuse us, Dr. Coran and I will need to discuss something for a moment before we get back.” 

They exited the room, and Keith sat in silence for a few moments. He strained to hear them, but the door was too thick to let anything through from where he was sitting. 

Curiosity got the better of him, and moving gingerly, he stood up and pressed his ear against the door. 

“—but what if he—”

“—doesn’t matter, he deserves to know everything—”

“—cannot keep this up—”

Confused, Keith settled back quickly in his seat. He wasn’t sure if the subject of the conversation was himself or another patient. 

Just as he was starting to get unnerved by the wait, the two returned. Allura seated herself back in her chair. 

“Right, then,” she said brightly. “We can help you sort through those memories, if you feel you are ready.” 

After a long pause— _he deserves to know everything_ —Keith shrugged. “What have I got to lose?”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

They both talked him through the process. Keith was instructed to rest flat on his back on the sofa, and after getting himself all settled in, he was told to close his eyes.

“Now focus on the first memory that comes to you,” Dr. Coran said. “Where was it taking place? When? Focus on the setting. What’s around you? Then focus…what words were spoken?”

For a few moments, all was silent. Nothing really came to Keith’s mind. 

Then, like a lit flame, the image of Shiro’s face contorted in rage. Keith jolted, but he stayed in his place. Focused. What was around Shiro. Around him? He was seeing Shiro’s face from an odd angle…yes…Shiro wasn’t even addressing him—

_“I hope you choke!” Shiro screamed as he spun around, glaring at the two figures in black suits. Keith froze in his spot. He had never seen Shiro this enraged before. He had just stepped into their home, and Shiro had been talking with those two figures, people shrouded in shadows, but Keith knew them as people Shiro was working with. Or used to work with._

_“Get out of my house!”_

_Later that night, they argued._

_“Shiro, we’re in too deep in this!” Keith pleaded. “They’re going to kill us! We know too much!”_

_“I cannot let this pass by!” Shiro yelled. “You have no idea how much the entire world is in jeopardy!” He paced around the room before turning back to Keith. “But they will not touch you. It’s me who knows too much. You’re still…if you knew the full extent of what I had seen in there—”_

The scene changed. Keith gasped. 

_He was looking up at Shiro, his cock in his mouth, but he was sucking Shiro enthusiastically, and Shiro’s hand was tangled in Keith’s hair, massaging circles around his scalp that in turn sent pleasurable tingles down his neck and spine._

_Shiro arched his back as he begged Keith to keep sucking him, to suck him dry—he was close, so close, so close—_

More scenes began to file out, untangling the chaos of the earlier visions. 

— _“That little parasite,” Shiro hissed as he glared into the newspaper. Keith craned his neck to get a better look at the photo._ —

— _“I hope you choke on this!” Shiro yelling at a photo of his ex-employer as he set it aflame. Keith stood by, mouth agape._ — 

Keith moaned, shifted in his spot. The next memory blacked him out completely.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Keith woke up and Shiro wasn’t sleeping beside him. Despite their argument last night, he’d still get into bed with him. Their arguments never meant sleeping apart.

“Shiro?” Keith hoped he had simply overslept, that Shiro was already up and made them coffee. He searched for him, called his name, shivered at how eerily silent their entire small abode was. He hoped Shiro hadn’t gone off in the middle of the night. He should have awoken to Shiro trying to slip away into the night. 

He noticed a small note attached to the refrigerator. The writing was in Vinča symbols. 

“No. No, you didn’t!” Keith hissed. In that moment the door to the kitchen was thrown wide open. Four tall figures in black suits marched in. Keith gasped, but they were quicker than he was, and they had him before he could fight or get away. 

“What did you do to him? ANSWER ME!” Keith cried out.

The four-on-one fight pushed him back towards the bedroom. He was thrown atop the bed, where the largest of the four agents gripped him tightly around the throat, crushing his neck until he couldn’t breathe— _No, NO!_. His fighting against the hold grew weaker. His vision darkened when suddenly the agent was thrown off. There was gunfire, shouting, heavy pounding of feet. 

Someone grabbed his arm and shot an injection into his vein. Weak as he was, he couldn’t fight off the new wave of intruders. Everything became a blur. Through heavy-lidded eyes he thought he saw four other figures working around the room, pulling everything in sight and tossing them into boxes. 

“What about the note?” 

“Goodness, leave that!” 

He was coming to slowly in the back of a car while someone, he couldn’t make it out, was studying him. 

“Jesus, how much of this stuff did you put in him?” 

When Keith came to again, he was only vaguely aware of being placed on another bed, boxes being placed hither-and-thither. 

Two figures leaned over him. 

“One month and he’ll begin to adjust here,” Dr. Coran said to Allura. 

More flashes. Someone coming in to check in on him. A card placed into his hand as Allura and Dr. Coran sat on either side of him. Droning practiced words to Dr. Ryner and Shay. Slinking away from the bed, mumbling and crying about Shiro and death and government conspiracies, talking to the walls, calling out a name, before crashing between two towers of boxes, the sun rising the next morning—

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Keith jolted up into a sitting position, panting heavily. Allura and Dr. Coran were watching him carefully. He regained his nerves and tried to place on a steady mask, suddenly feeling very uneasy about the two pairs of eyes watching him.

“Was the session helpful?” Allura asked. 

Keith nodded. “I got the answer I needed. I was wrong about Shiro.” _I was also wrong about you._ “He was a good man after all. Thank you.” 

He smiled and hoped his hammering heart would not tip them off. He prayed he had not screamed anything during the process, or that they would not ask him any more questions. But to his relief, he somehow soon found himself seeing Flo, this time to bid her a good evening before leaving, in no time. 

When he returned to his apartment, it was like looking at a stranger’s house. He sifted back through the things he had already put away, marveling bitterly at the work Allura and Dr. Coran, and their three other cohorts, had done on his and Shiro’s life, from Keith’s phone to his memories, to the missing pieces on the bookshelves. For whatever reason, they had done a mighty good job of wiping every trace of evidence that Keith and Shiro ever had connections with Area 51. 

Keith noticed the broken radio again, saw a small piece on the ground, and picked it up. Remembering what led to its demise, he searched around. 

“Shiro?” he called out sadly in a voice steadily breaking. “Shiro! …I’m sorry.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Weeks passed, and Keith didn’t see Shiro again.

When he wanted to see Shiro most, speak with him so badly that his heart ached, Shiro did not make his presence known. To fill in the void, Keith had filled his notebook with all of the latest updates, and all of the memories. The more he wrote, the more he remembered. More memories had since come to him, but nothing seemed as remarkable as what had transpired that day. Yet Keith would welcome more of the innocent and the mundane. He kept a list of songs he remembered Shiro liked most. He sat back and focused on one lovely morning coming in to seeing Shiro doing pushups, and him turning at the sound of the door closing, smiling and winking. He must have showered Shiro with kisses. 

The memories, painful and insipid as they were, for Keith knew pieces were still missing, forced from his mind as to keep some secret hidden. That new thing was what kept him up at night: the revelation of a real Area 51, and that there was something Shiro knew, a deeply-buried secret that could have ended the world. That wasn’t something Keith could turn his back on easily. And knowing now how horribly secretive Area 51 was about its business didn’t make the situation any better. 

But he had to get back on his feet somehow. He had lived on for at least a month since Shiro’s death and so far the secret hadn’t caused anything to happen. The world was still here. Everything was fine. Sort of. 

Lauri Kinnunen had responded to apologize that no Shiro or Takashi Shirogane was buried in the cemetery nearby. Keith was somehow unsurprised after the knowledge of how he had come by this place, but it was still disappointing. He would have liked having his husband buried within walking distance, so he may visit him every day. 

He only left his home when it was necessary, for groceries or if he gave up on feeding himself. The workers at Sal’s seemed to have missed his business, because Hunk and Lance were very generous with their portions. 

Pidge visited on occasion. They conversed by text messages, and whenever she sensed Keith was slipping, a knock would come on his door not one hour later.

“Bad idea, giving you the address to my place,” he joked lightly. 

To get his mind off Shiro, they tinkered with the radio. When Pidge suggested giving up and getting a new radio, Keith refused. Losing another piece of his old life felt like he would be losing more of Shiro. 

One morning, his landline phone rang. 

Pidge and Keith had stayed up all night fixing up the radio. Pidge had brought her laptop and they had watched reruns of some nostalgic Saturday morning cartoons as they worked, ate bowls of cereal during their breaks, and shared snippets of their childhoods. By morning, music drifted back through the unit, and Pidge gave a little yawn. 

“Do you need me to call a cab?” Keith asked. 

Pidge raised her phone. “Already called Matt. He needs his tools back, but thanks, friend!” 

Keith smiled, and he showed her to the door. 

The phone rang, and he picked it up. 

“Hello, may I speak with Keith Ko—” 

“This is he,” Keith said. “And I think you mean Keith Shirogane.” 

“Ah, yes, sorry, Keith! This is Dr. Coran speaking. Was just calling to check up on you. It’s been nearly four weeks since your last visit.” 

“Yeah…” Keith sighed and sat up straighter. Speaking with them now felt like speaking with a snake in the grass, and he thought he had experienced the worst of them with General Iverson. “I’m…I’m getting more memories. Just small things. Nothing distressing. My childhood, mostly. A couple more about my marriage. Just everyday things. I can’t seem to sleep, though.” 

“Oh, do you need to see us?” 

“I don’t see how that would help me,” Keith said flatly. 

Silence follows for a few moments. “How many nights are you having trouble sleeping?” 

“Er, almost every night?” 

“Would you like us to prescribe you something? Try it for a week, and we’ll see how it’s helping you after you’re done. You don’t have to use it every night.” 

Keith was about to decline before an idea came to him. He hunted for the packing for his testosterone vial, on which was the pharmacy label. 

“Can you call it to this pharmacy?” 

An hour later Keith exited the bus that had taken him to the heart of Paradise. His doctor’s clinic had a small pharmacy where he normally picked up his prescriptions, mainly his testosterone and any occasional acute treatments. The pharmacy was located on the first floor, and the lab where he did all lab workup was on the second. 

His prescription was already waiting for him in the pickup bin. Seven tablets of zolpidem, low dose, take once at bedtime only as needed. Do not drive or operate any heavy machinery or vessels while on this medication. The pharmacist got him to memorize everything about the medication before he could sign off on it. 

When he turned it over and saw his name on the bottle was back to Keith Shirogane, he smiled. He took the elevator to the fourth floor and made his way straight to Dr. Ryner’s office. 

Shay gave a tiny start when he stepped in. 

“How may I help you?” she asked kindly, watching him from the receptionist desk. “Dr. Ryner is with a patient right now.” 

Keith went over to her. 

“I need my name changed again,” he said. “I know I said to change my surname to Kogane…please change it back. I…I wasn’t well when I was here last time.” 

She nodded her head slowly but never broke eye contact with him. “Of course.” She pulled up his profile and set to make the changes. 

“I know I appeared off the last time I was here,” Keith said. “I’m sorry.” 

Shay paused. 

“My husband…he went missing, he…I believe he had died. It affected me.” 

Shay lowered her head. “I’m so sorry. You two loved each other very much.” 

Keith bowed his head. “I’m learning to move on.” 

After he was done with the office, he walked back towards the elevator slowly. The clinic had tall windows that showcased the rest of the city. He could almost imagine his mother standing there with him on his first visit, then Shiro standing there waiting for him, the sunlight on his dark hair. 

Keith stood by the window alone now. From here he could trace the road through the busy streets, to the residential areas…to their old home. 

Gasping, he rushed back to the ground floor, no longer tired. His feet carried him out of memory, past traffic, past the first line of mansions, down a line of residential homes…

…there, 610 Yurakon Drive. 

Keith stood as if he was seeing a ghost. Their old home still stood. It didn’t give the impression of someone currently living in there, but there wasn’t even a “for sale” sign. None of the lights were on. No car parked. No toys sprayed out on the front lawn. No pets about. 

It was the weekend. Someone would have been around. Yet it stood silent amidst the life bubbling all around it. 

Keith slowly approached. Stopped, thinking of his last moments in this home. Shiro’s last moments. 

There was that note Shiro had left him. Was it still in there? 

_Dr. Coran or someone had said to leave it behind_ , Keith thought. _It might still be there._

His heart leapt to his throat. He needed to get that note. What did Shiro want to tell him before they were ripped apart? 

His feet grazed the final step up to the front porch. Silence rang heavier the closer he got. Would the door open for him? Or did Allura and Dr. Coran lock it? 

His hand brushed over the knob when his phone began buzzing. Keith gave a terrible start, his heart squeezing as though he skipped a few steps going down. He stepped back and reached down. An email notification ran across the top of his phone. 

He had been getting answers back from the various sextons around Paradise, all with no news of Shiro to report to him. 

However, this message was different.

> I have reviewed my records of Paradise Memorials, and while I have not come across a Takashi Shirogane, buried at the west wing about a month ago—

Keith’s eyes shot up. Paradise Memorials was located within walking distance from here.

“Shiro,” he gasped hopefully and ran, discarding the rest of the message. He nearly ignored traffic signs in his haste to get there in time, and he was panting heavily by the time he had crossed the double iron gates of the cemetery. 

_Shiro!_

He located the west wing and made a dash. 

His entire body was a whirlpool of heat and ice, thinking of the tombstone that no doubt awaited him. 

_Shiro!_

He choked back a sob. He was going to see where his husband was buried, that man—that beautiful smile, those warm arms around him—he was going to find where that had all been laid to rest. 

The gravesite still looked relatively new as Keith approached it, so he knew it to be the one. He fell to his knees, heaving a mix of sobs and trying to catch his breath. 

He gazed at the name, and his eyes widened. 

The sexton had said he hadn’t come across a Takashi Shirogane, yet somehow Keith still wanted to believe it was him buried here. Perhaps whoever had laid Shiro to rest had marked it with a “Shiro” instead. He wanted to believe. He wanted so desperately to believe. It would have made sense for Shiro to want to be buried so close to their old beloved home. 

But it wasn’t Shiro. 

It was Shiro’s father.


	5. Mantra

> **General Hayato Shirogane**
> 
> April 10, 111 - May 20, 173
> 
> Beloved husband and father

  
The letters bore into Keith’s eyes, shooting straight into his memory. Panting, he sat before the grave, studying the edges of the tombstone, the etched medals to denote the man’s service to the Garrison, army unit.

None of this made sense. This was so recent, as recent as Shiro’s death. 

What if…

Keith closed his eyes and focused. He had seen General Shirogane before. Where was it? 

_Think, think_ —

The photos, the photos of Keith with Shiro and relatives—they were from Shiro’s side of the family. He had met him. The wedding, yes. Didn’t he? Shiro was always quiet about his family. 

_Think!_

His fingers dug into the earth as his heart began racing again. 

Yes, of course. 

Keith had been surprised to learn that Shiro, golden boy that he was, was a little removed from the rest of his family. He was closest to his grandfather, a man whom Shiro had filled Keith up with so many stories filled with fondness that Keith regretted not having met him earlier. He sung so many sweet praises about his dearest sweet Grandpa Ryou. 

It was another matter with his father. It was not that General Shirogane was a bad man. None of Shiro’s family were, Keith learned the longer he lived with Shiro. His aunt Akane and her wife Yuuna were a pleasure to know, the sort who instantly wove a friendship with Keith’s wanderlust mother; she in turn had a couple stories about running into Aunt Akane, spiky hair and all, riding by on her hoverbike. Shiro’s mother, meanwhile, never forgot a birthday, anniversary, or holiday when it came to gift-giving and cards; she even managed to find Krolia, no matter where she was traveling. 

But something long ago had pinched the relationship between Shiro and his father, something that must have taken place well before Shiro started at the Garrison. Keith never knew what the reason for the tension was, and it was the only subject he was nervous bringing up with his husband. With everything else, Shiro met it with the same zen-like calm, the same patience, a young man who possessed an old soul since birth. Yet his father was clearly a sore subject, the only time Keith had ever seen vulnerability cross his beloved’s eyes. General Shirogane was at their wedding. He didn’t do anything to hurt Shiro, but Keith could tell, Shiro would have rather had Grandpa Ryou instead. 

Keith coughed heavily, nearly retching before the gravestone. 

And then there was the final time Keith had seen General Shirogane. 

Keith leaned forward and guided his breathing as the memory rolled out.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

It had happened a few days before Shiro’s disappearance. They had gone to visit Shiro’s parents for a birthday celebration that was held for his mother. Keith was busy listening to another one of Aunt Akane’s stories when his ears had picked up muffled argument stemming somewhere in the distance.

Frowning, he excused himself and followed the noise to the source. His face fell when he recognized Shiro’s voice, and a moment later, realized that General Shirogane was with him. 

Mentally kicking himself for not being there to support his husband, Keith resigned himself to pressing against a wall that allowed a good vantage point to see and hear everything. Despite the impulse to rush in there and take a stand with Shiro on whatever the matter was, he also didn’t wish to make the matter worse. Perhaps staying here was for the best. But should Shiro need him, he was ready. What was General Shirogane doing to upset his husband when they should be focusing on Takara? 

“I’m not trying to give you a hard time,” General Shirogane was saying. “I know we have had our differences.” 

“Like you not being at Grandpa’s funeral,” Shiro said flatly. 

Pain shot across the general’s face. “Takashi! You well know I was stationed too far away at the time. I couldn’t hold everyone back, so I let the funeral commence without me. And did you not think how hard it was for me to make that decision? Do not insinuate such nonsense when you know how much I grieved over _my father_!” 

Shiro winced, immediately regretting his words. He crossed his arms and glanced away, his face burning. General Shirogane stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “The Garrison has pulled us apart for so long, and this is why I fear the Garrison will continue at it until it completely rips us all apart. I am dreading the repercussions of your deep involvement in Area 51.” 

Silence.

“You are married. You have travelled. You’re discussing starting a family together. With all the intelligence you have been gathering, with everything I have heard…the Garrison will cut that short.” 

“Sir…Dad…” Shiro’s shoulders relaxed as he unfolded his arms. He met his father’s eyes. “I cannot turn back. If the world doesn’t know about the GALRA Unit, the discoveries Dr. Onerva has made—”

“This is even more reason for you to turn back and say nothing.” 

“But _you_ know…” 

General Shirogane sighed. “And I do not regret that. But anyone with the knowledge of it is in danger, Takashi. I am willing to take on that burden from you, because you are my son, and no matter our differences in the past, I will still protect you no matter what.” 

Keith’s stomach churned. Shiro stepped back as if his father’s words had scalded him. Keith glanced back; Akane might come looking for them, but for now, she was still busy with Takara and his mother. 

When Shiro finally spoke, Keith had never heard him sounding so defeated and soft-voiced. 

“Dad…I can’t ask this from you.” A moment later, and Keith realized Shiro was close to tearing up. “It was not you in their deepest cellars. It wasn’t you who got to know—” He took a steading breath. “I have a plan of action. I can sneak it under their senses. They won’t think to hurt me or Keith.” 

“A plan,” General Shirogane scoffed, but by his tone, he was not mocking Shiro. Keith’s heart shattered at the tragic resignation implied in the general’s tone. “You will always think you are one step ahead of the Garrison, my son, but soon enough you’ll realize you’ve only fallen into their trap.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Keith heaved a heavy breath and coughed beside his late father-in-law’s gravestone. His entire body shook from head to toe.

“Forgive me,” he whispered to the grave. “Forgive us.” 

Shakily, he got to his feet. The sound of passing cars felt so distant, muffled. 

As if in a daze, he made his way back out of the cemetery.


	6. Spiral Out! Keep Going!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AFAB language is used during the sex scene.

When Keith entered his apartment, Shiro was standing there, right in the middle of his living room. He turned when he heard the door, his face, pale and static though it was, lighting up when he saw that Keith was there. 

But any words he had spoken were drowned out; Keith barely heard him. He realized that, in his haste to get to the pharmacy in Paradise, he had left without switching the radio off. 

He strolled towards the radio, hand on the small device, then stopped. 

“Hold it,” he said under his breath. “You only come here when this plays.” 

He faced Shiro, who had taken a step back. 

“Listen, Shiro, it’s been weeks. I know you’re innocent. You never raised a hand on me. My…therapists helped me understand, see the real memories. You were right the whole time. I’m sorry I doubted you. 

“And…you’re not…really dead. Are you?” Keith swallowed thickly. Shiro’s face remained impassive before he gave the tiniest of nods. 

“…Yes, that is correct,” he finally said. 

“All this time, I was searching for your grave. I contacted sextons all over to help me find your plot and, and—I was just at your father’s grave instead.” 

Shiro’s eyes widened with grief before he squeezed them tight. 

“Keith…I knew…but…where?” 

“Close to our old home,” Keith said softly. 

A few shuddering sobs escaped his husband. His body shook, his image flickering and Keith wanted to run to him and embrace him, but he knew his hands would only go right through him. After a long shuddering breath, Shiro gave a gentle nod. “I wanted to see him again. Someday.” 

“I’m so sorry. They got them, didn’t they? The same ones who hunted you down?” 

Shiro’s mouth fell open, but no words came out. He glanced up at Keith, his eyes searching him. 

“I can’t…they…”

Again, he glanced to his right and left. Keith glanced at the radio. 

“All the times you’ve had contact with me, it had to do with the radio. Or the computer,” Keith mused loudly. “You’re kept somewhere and somehow you’re able to…travel, through the radio waves.” 

Shiro bit his lip and it looked like he was about to fade out. 

“Shiro, stay with me!” 

“ _Ha_ ,” he finally said. “ _Ha_.” 

Keith cocked an eyebrow. “What?” 

“ _Gla-tor au heh zhu-tor ek’._ ”

Keith took a step back. “Oh.” 

Golic Vulcan. He and Shiro, in a mad fit after binging on half the franchise of Star Trek, had turned to learning all of the languages, of course by Keith’s urging. Their own fascination with Golic Vulcan came from the fact that it was purely fan-made, a language that not many knew. It provided them the sort of language they could utter among company even within the Garrison and not be understood. 

_Gla-tor au heh zhu-tor ek’_ : They see and hear all. 

Wherever he was, he was under surveillance. 

“Okay,” Keith said, choosing his next words carefully. “I get you. Are the people who took you part of Area 51?” 

“ _Ha_.” Yes. 

“Are they the ones who killed your father?” 

“ _Ri tor fai-tor. Sos'eh._ ” I don't know. Possibly. 

“Are you safe right now?” 

“ _Ha_.” 

“Are you being kept far from here?” 

“ _Rai_.” No. 

Keith’s heart hammered in his throat. “Have they done anything to you?” 

“ _Ha_.”

“Then how can you be safe?” Keith hissed. “I have to find you!” Shiro raised a hand as if to calm him. 

“Don’t tell me not to go looking for you!” Keith went on. “I can help you! I’m not going to let them continue hurting you! Please, Shiro! _Please! let me help you! I’ve made a vow, till death do us part, but even death will not tear us! Nothing will! I will find you, Shiro! Please just tell me how! How can I save you?!_ ” 

“ _Tranush katau thakaya._ ” Patience yields focus. 

Keith sucked in a breath. He would have punched Shiro for his favorite bit of zen philosophy if his husband wasn’t currently some strange holographic projection coming in through radio waves. 

“Shiro, I swear…”

“ _Kulan_.” 

Keith took a step back, staring at him. _Kulan_ meant ‘spiral’. “Excuse me?” 

“ _Kulan_.” Shiro was smiling at him, as if he should already know the significance of those words. “ _Vathlaya_.” The radio smoothed into a softer song and Shiro hummed along with it. His next words were all in English, but spoken so quietly Keith almost missed them. 

“Black. And. White are. All I see. In my infancy. Red and yellow then came to be. Reaching out to me. Lets me see.” 

_The Fibonacci sequence_ , Keith thought, noting the number of syllables and pauses. 

Shiro smiled sadly at him before fading out of sight. The radio continued to hum.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

“If I told you this, would you think I’m weird?” Shiro mused loudly.

Keith scoffed. They were lying naked on their bed, still in the afterglow of lovemaking. “I’ve known you for nearly half my life. It’s going to take a lot to get me to think weird of you.” 

Shiro chuckled before kissing his navel. “You are the universe.” He pulled himself to Keith’s level. “I can feel it sometimes. The vibrations of the other planets. The asteroids circulating between Mars and Jupiter, the comets hurling on the ends of the solar system. I look up and see the line of the Milky Way and feel as though I have been transported to the very tips. I feel I could reach out and touch Andromeda. I suddenly feel as though I am connected with all of life in this universe, and my heart can no longer take it that it nearly bursts in my chest.” 

Keith lay there, transfixed. Shiro entwined their legs together as his fingers traced over Keith’s arm, drawing their way down to his fingertips. 

“For me, you are my universe, Keith,” Shiro said softly. “I can feel your every heartbeat, in tune to my own. It keeps the rhythm of this entire existence in place. I feel it when you’re sleeping against me, when I’m inside you, even when we are apart.”

You are holy. We are holy.” 

“Shiro,” Keith said gently, smiling. 

Shiro curled Keith’s fingers into his palm as he pressed Keith closer to him. He could feel Shiro’s erection against his swollen clit, and the contact sent sparks through him. Shiro sighed as Keith leaned back, allowing him to lean over him again, lazily slipping back in. Their lips found one another as Shiro’s finger traced over Keith’s curled hand. 

He moved slowly, and Keith drew in a pleasurable moan. He turned his head. The vertical window blinds appeared like piano keys, stark black and white, but the longer they remained, the sunrise peaked through, red and yellow rays bathing their entwined hands. 

“I could stay like this forever,” Shiro sighed, as light surrounded him like an aura, “riding on the spiral of your divinity and still feel human.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

When Keith awoke, tears still clung to the corners of his eyes.

“Shiro…” 

His fingers were curled beside his head, as it had in that time. He studied his hand for a moment before he finally saw what Shiro had seen. 

The spiral. Fibonacci’s spiral. 

Gasping, he shot up from the bed and scrambled to his feet. 

“Shiro, you were trying to tell me something!” 

It was still before dawn, but Keith’s mind was alight with a newfound fire. He hunted for the map from his bookshelf. 

Under the kitchen light, he laid out the map of Paradise, Nevada on the tabletop. 

“I think I know what you meant,” he said under his breath. Black and white. Shiro was the one who slept closer to the window. He would have noted the way the window blinds appeared like black and white strokes right before the sunrise—the infancy of the day, before the colors of the dawn came to be, reaching through the cracks between the blinds. 

Frowning at the map, he went hunting for more supplies: ruler, pencils, marker, compass. He nearly ripped his hair out searching for the graph paper. He was sure he had come across it before while putting it away with Pidge, and he laughed madly when he found it stashed between some notebooks on his desk, left in the “to be decided on” pile. His eyes fell on some other paper, the strange blank astronomy charts, but thought nothing of them. 

He returned to the map and placed a sheet of graph paper over. He had drawn the Fibonacci spiral before. He and Shiro had, usually on graph paper. Now he squinted his eyes as he tried to read the map through the thin layer of paper, then brought out the ruler, eyeballing the numbers and etches on the ruler, their relationship on the graph paper’s lines, and to the map. 

“It’ll do,” he sighed before settling it aside. “I…think I can do this without the graph paper.” 

He brought out the pencil and set the ruler on the map, then stopped. 

“Okay…now, where do I start?” he said. 

He thought of Shiro’s riddle— _the note attached to the refrigerator written in Vinča symbols._

Of course, Keith thought as he hunted for their old address. Locating it, he drew the first one-by-one unit square. Then shifted towards the left. 

“No…the right,” he whispered. Shiro said ‘ _Vathlaya_.’ _Kulan, vathlaya._ Spiral, in the flip formation. He shifted the pencil to the right instead. Another one-by-one square was drawn. Then right below them, a two-by-two unit square. To the left of them, a three-by-three unit square; and above them, a five-by-five square. On and on he went until the squares followed out of the map. 

Then he took the compass, setting the pivotal point at the first square, and moved at a ninety degree angle clockwise. His heart hammered as the spiral took shape throughout the map. 

“Jesus, Shiro,” Keith mumbled under his breath as he stepped back to study the map. “What does this all mean?” 

He peered into each box, quickly glancing at the locations within. 

“What did you do?” 

A suspicion was slowly creeping up on Keith. He had to get that note back in their old residence. But he also had a feeling he wasn’t going to be back for a good long while. 

After a quick shower as he built resolve and a plan, listing items in his head and counting them off with his fingers, he went on to packing. Bottles of water, protein bars, checkbook, cash, the keys to their old residence, his phone fully charged, phone charger (just in case), the zolpidem (again, just in case), the map, pencils, marker, the smallest notepad he could find. Noting the little gadgets Pidge had given him a while back, Keith took them too; might need them at some point. And from his desk he found one of those small pen flashlights with still decent amount of light, so he pocketed that as well. 

He realized belatedly he needed some sort of weapon, just in case someone from Area 51 or the GALRA Unit, whatever they were, had gotten scent of what he was doing. But he had nothing, save for a couple spare needles he used for his injections, and he didn’t feel like risking losing his own supplies. He could easily get turned to authorities if he was caught with them, and if any officials had wanted to make a case for him. 

“Blade,” he said under his breath and searched for a small purple pocket knife his mother had given him years ago. It would do. 

He stood before the radio for a few moments before sighing and giving it a soft pat. 

“Sorry, Shiro, but it’s too bulky to take with me,” he said softly. “I’ll see you again soon, I promise.” 

He gave his apartment one final look before locking the door behind him.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Their old home was bathed in warm sunrise when Keith reached it. He smiled sadly and approached the door. Tried the key.

The turn in his hand felt so ancient and familiar that Keith nearly felt as though he might hear Shiro inside, turning all this horror into some weird nightmare. 

But no one was inside. He studied the emptiness of their old home, noting how it had been torn apart in the haste of him being extracted out of the place, realizing that so many of Shiro’s own belongings had been left behind. His heart fell. The items that belonged to his husband which had carried over to the apartment had all been a lucky coincidence. 

_We had so many memories here_ , he thought. He would love to come back here again, but would Shiro agree to it? They put so much love into this house. But he was attacked. Waves of intruders had poured in, one intending to kill him, another intending to...to what? Save him? Wipe his memory of all trace of Shiro, of what he may have known of Area 51? 

He found the kitchen. The note had been knocked off the refrigerator, and for one moment, panic seized Keith as he hunted for the paper. One of his saviors must have accidentally knocked it aside while they were whisking away Keith and the boxes of his stuff. 

He found it near the vent, boot marks over the unwritten surface. 

Fingers shaking, he opened the note and read the message Shiro had written for him over two months ago: 

_Spiral Out! Keep Going!_

_From the first time we fell in love to last weekend, food proves that reaching the heart is through the stomach._

That was all the Vinča symbols translated to. Frowning, Keith turned it around although he knew nothing else was written. He pulled out the map and peered inside. The first square was their home. In the square east of their home…

Keith gasped, then smiled, remembering a certain photo that he had found among his boxes back in the apartment. 

_Saturday — I think I am beginning to fall in love with him._

And they always went back. As recently as the week before…

“Okay, smart guy, but which diner was it?” Keith said under his breath as he searched through the map. He pulled up his phone and noticed that there were five missed calls and text messages from Pidge. Feeling guilty, he ignored all of them and searched for diners within the area. One name struck a chord in his memory. 

Daltera Diner. 

“Bingo.” 

He stood up and pocketed the map. After he locked the front door, his eyes turned towards the garage. The set of keys in his hand came with a small device with a button. He pressed it, and the garage door drew up, revealing a shiny red hoverbike, Keith’s hoverbike. 

He grinned. 

“This should make travel easier.” 

The hoverbike functioned as a simple motorcycle when on civilian traffic. Out in the field, should he need it, the wings would expand from the sides, allowing for speedier travel. 

Keith headed for the Daltera Diner, seeing how the sign appeared still the same as the day of their date, over ten years ago. 

“Smoking or non-smoking?” greeted the hostess. 

Keith scanned the seating, searching for where Shiro may have laid the next clue. Just as the hostess was about to repeat the question, thinking he hadn’t heard her, Keith spotted a window with a view that resembled the one in his photo. To his relief, it was unoccupied. 

“Actually, could I be seated there?” he asked and pointed to the spot. The hostess followed where he was pointing and shrugged. 

“Certainly!” she said, a little bemused. 

As Keith settled into the booth, he noticed a man with long flaxen hair sitting a little aways. His eyes were obscured with dark shades, but Keith had the distinct feeling the man was watching him. Just great. 

He ordered a coffee and tried not to show he was bothered by the strange man within view. 

_All right, Shiro, I’m here_ , Keith thought. _This is exactly where we sat before. Our favorite spot. Where did you put the clue?_

The waiter brought the coffee. Keith thanked him and took a sip, the corner of his eyes falling on the tiniest white triangle behind the canvas of the booth across from him, where Shiro once sat. He just needed to switch seats and reach in to grab it. But the man with the glasses…was he watching Keith? 

_Damn it, how do I—?_

In that moment, the man’s cell rang, and Keith made his move. He slipped to the other booth and reached his hand under the canvas, then slipped back into his seat. Behind the coffee mug he unfurled the note. It was written in Cuneiform A. 

_Spiral out! Keep going!_

_Under spirals, we discover the stars. Come read with me._

Keith moaned. He knew from the map he would next be traveling south. And by this point, he suspected Shiro was going to pick out a place that meant something special to them. 

_How did he manage to slip into Lauren and Joaquim’s before daybreak?_ Keith wondered miserably before realizing that the man was watching him again. Gingerly he clasped the note into his hand, pushing it safely into his pocket. Acting naturally, he finished his coffee and paid the waiter before leaving. 

Lauren and Joaquim’s, or The L & J’s as it was more commonly known, was a bookshop Keith and Shiro had come to countless times. It had been named after two famous storytellers from a time before the Floods, though the current owner was a descendent of one of the original founders. They had loved it most because, even if they could not find the books they needed, the owner could always order it for them, with a discount that rivaled even internet purchases. Even with the low prices the store thrived and lived happily tucked among the busy street, the cozy inside marked by the many cats who lived there and lazily watched the shoppers. 

Keith’s heart squeezed as the hoverbike slowed into a spot parallel to The L & J, suddenly remembering that Shiro and he had made plans to come here the day before this all went to shit. They always came in about once a month The L & J was partly responsible for their home being a library of its own. 

A large black cat meowed as Keith entered, turning her bright yellow eyes towards him. 

Keith scratched the cat behind the ears as he glanced around. Where would Shiro have placed the note here? 

There was indeed a spiral staircase. They used to sit there and pore through books while occasionally peering out or smile at the cats who had settled nearby to bask in their presence.

“Keith?” 

He gave a start and spun around, but it was only Mel, the current owner. She sat at the cashier, nearly invisible with the tall stacks of books all around her and a large tabby perched over her lap. Long grey hair curtained her wrinkled face and watery eyes. 

“Keith, is that you, dear?” she asked and leaned forward. “I was getting worried. Your husband stopped by about two months ago, just as I was opening shop, and placed an order for some books. Said to put this slip of paper with them and told me to hide them well until he or you stopped by to pick them up. You were due for your usual visits but then you never came! It’s been so long I was worried something happened!” 

Keith’s heart hammered. “Just some…health problems.” 

“Oh.” A shaky hand went up to her mouth. 

“But we’re fine!” Keith quickly added. “Shiro is fine. I’ll get the books, thank you!” 

She fetched the stack from behind her. A tiny kitten could be heard hissing as Mel gently nudged the hostage stack free from their fluffy captor. 

“There,” she said, resting an impressive stack on the counter. 

_The hell, Shiro?_ Keith thought Mel rang him up. _Was this all necessary?_ Keith paid up, his eyes still studying the books. He thanked her, and after remembering the man with the glasses back in the diner, asked if he may look through them inside for a bit. 

“Oh, sure!” Mel said with a chuckle. “I know you wouldn’t steal anything. Even if you tried, Donut would catch you.” 

Keith thanked her and made for the spiral staircase. A couple more cats followed him. He must have been the only customer for a while, so he was glad for some bodies to cuddle around. He didn’t mind, and realized he was quite used to them, as long as none of them snatched the slip of paper. 

He couldn’t also fathom why Shiro had ordered so many books. Books about astronomy—of course, Shiro loved the stars as much as he loved Keith. But there were other subjects, things that twisted the coffee in Keith’s stomach. Occult. Astrology. Witchcraft. 

_Saturn Ascends._

“What are you trying to tell me, Shiro?” Keith said under his breath. He located a thin stub inside one book and pulled it out. The third note, at last. This time it was written in Cuneiform B. 

_Spiral out! Keep going!_

_They may not have invented the wheel, but they certainly showcase them._

Keith pulled out his map and checked for the region west. 

“Carroll Shelby Museum,” he said under his breath. “This better not cost any more money. Hell, Shiro…” 

He left the bookshop, again thanking Mel and wishing her a good day, and threw all the books into the back compartment of his hover-bike.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

The Carroll Shelby Museum had undergone evolutions since the time of the Floods, turning it into a museum on the history of automobiles and a museum of automobile engineering as much as a showroom of the finest vehicles, race-cars, sedans, and hover-bikes included.

Keith was almost certain he knew where Shiro hid the next clue. This time, he was under surveillance no matter what. He just had to act natural, be part of the crowd, and slip his way towards the interactive time capsule showroom in as inconspicuous a manner as he could. 

Shiro and Keith had come here a couple times, most notably because Aunt Akane had wanted to see the hover-bikes for her birthday and submit her name for a raffle to win a brand new bike (she didn’t win, but it as still a nice day). Keith and Shiro had been drawn to the antique cars, sedans that who have been driven by the privileged in times long before the 21st century. They weren’t all truly antiques. Many were reconstructions that the public could sit inside and get a feel for what their ancestors had driven. 

“That’s a 1920’s Cadillac from Chicago, right?” Keith had laughed, studying the green car with amusement. “Something the mobsters had driven?” 

Shiro had held the door open for him. “After you, boss.” 

“Going after someone?” Keith had joked as he slipped in before being taken by the beauty of the interior. 

Keith shook himself back to the present. The same 1920s Cadillac still stood there. Other museum patrons were sitting in and out of the cars, reading the blurb, talking amongst themselves. He had every right to be here. 

But he couldn’t help shaking the feeling of eyes, that man from the diner. Somewhere in this crowd was another watcher. To make this as natural as possible, Keith read a couple blurbs, pretending to find the other cars interesting enough to observe but not to sit inside. 

When he got close to the Cadillac, a bunch of excited kids ran ahead of him, filling the car and laughing. He sighed and tried not to appear impatient. 

_Damn it, Shiro, why this place of all…_

The kids finally filed out of the car, and Keith slipped in immediately after. Sat in the same place as before. The two of them had sat inside for a while, talking excitedly as they studied the gas pedals and trying the steering wheel. 

He could almost imagine Shiro next to him, arms brushing together, as he studied the dashboard. 

Keith’s hand slipped behind him, into the car seat. There were so many people, someone was bound to catch him search the damn car. 

_Damn it, Shiro!_

His fingers brushed against something, and his heart leapt. 

“Hey!” 

He gasped and pulled the slip of paper into his sleeve. The person who had yelled was perhaps some parent or chaperone yelling at one of the kids. Keith released a sigh of relief and stepped out of the car, not daring to look at the note until he was standing at the entryway of the museum. 

He needed to take a few swigs from his water bottle before reading. This note was written in an ancient South Arabian script. 

_Spiral out! Keep going!_

_They win big below while we gaze up. Want to try your hand? Pick a card, or else!_

Below that was a series of short vertical lines and some jagged lines. 

An ill feeling sunk inside Keith as he produced his map. 

Based on the map and clue, Keith would next traveling north, to Las Vegas. But he didn’t have to think hard on the final clue to know which hotel Shiro was referring to. 

Caesars Palace. Pick a card…or else. Et tu, Shiro? 

“Fuck,” Keith spat. “Fuck, Shiro, how did you manage to do all this in one morning?” He must have been out of breath. How was he able to do this knowing he was being chased? What even awaited Keith at the end of the spiral? 

But another matter was becoming disturbingly apparent: this egg hunt was fast draining him financially, and he hadn’t worked for at least two months. He didn’t even know how much money he had left in the bank. How was he going to enter the Caesars Palace with the cash he had left? 

He peered back at the slip, wondering at the weird lines when he suddenly realized: they were numbers in the ancient script. Shiro’s credit card number. 

Shiro must have known. He was handing over any of his own money in case Keith needed it. 

“No…I’d never,” Keith’s voice cracked. _I can’t just…use your own money, Shiro…_ As close as they were, they had always agreed to have separate bank accounts. 

_How well did you plan this, Shiro?_ Keith wondered, his heart hammering before it sank. Somehow, Shiro sensed this would all happen. But if Shiro wanted him to infiltrate a casino-hotel in order to find him, then he would it. He would find Shiro, whatever it took.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

They were not a couple known to find much enjoyment in casinos, but there was something about the Caesar Palace that captivated Keith. Made even more majestic in the renovations after the Floods, it was the utopia of Las Vegas, a palace of pure white marble and gold. The thought never left him: of making love on one of the top floors, with the curtains wide open to the night sky, midnight blue and glimmering gold of the rich below casting their bets while Shiro and Keith basked in their sure and steadfast love, two men of humble backgrounds lost among satin sheets of the nouveau riche.

And Shiro lavished him. Saved money just for that special night. This was their love nest after their wedding, the only little honeymoon they needed before spending the rest of the weekend happily working together piecing their warm home together. 

The Caesar Palace had well over four thousand rooms by this point, but Keith had a clear idea which room Shiro wanted him to go to. 

Their love nest. The Forum Tower. The duplex suite. The suite for kings. Room 4181, chosen because it was a Fibonacci number. 

“Shirogane?” the front desk receptionist said, an eyebrow raised. 

Keith had debated with himself when he had come in, unsure if he should give his real name. What if there was another strange occurrence like in the diner? It was just one incident, but his mind just couldn’t shake it off as an isolated incident. He had eventually decided to sign in with Shirogane. He left his first name out. 

“Yes,” he said, already alarmed and ready to fend himself from any trouble. 

The receptionist nodded with a frown and left. After the panic subsided, Keith realized she was going to retrieve the access card to his room. Keith stood in excited anticipation, but the card she returned with had a different number. 

“I’m afraid the room you put on reserve had been sitting in limbo for too long. Another patron received the room out of courtesy for a mishap regarding his own arrangements. Your room has opened up only this morning. We hope this does not inconvenience you. You room is still on the same floor.” 

Keith didn’t have it in him to argue. He thanked the receptionist and took the card. It was still the same floor, a different suite, but not the same one. Not the one with Shiro’s note. 

He went up to the highest level, nervous and dejected. He was so close yet so far. His own suite was adjacent, and yet…

“I’m sorry, Shiro,” Keith said under his breath. “I was too slow.” 

The door of the suite he should have taken was wide open, and Keith’s stomach lurched when he heard heavy and violent movement within. The top of an upturned furniture was visible through the door before it was dragged back inside. 

“Keep searching!” 

Gasping, Keith pressed himself against the wall. 

The receptionist had said the man had gotten the room as apology for a mishap with his own arrangement. As an apology. Just give him someone else’s reserved room to appease him. After all, the reserved room went unclaimed for two months. 

_Mishap, my ass_ , Keith thought as the corner of his eye watched the silhouettes. _Who the hell are they? From Area 51? What tipped them off? Why now?_

He thought of his last conversation with Shiro, and felt sick to his stomach. Just how much were they able to guess? Was someone watching him the entire time? Had he not noticed someone following? Or was someone two steps ahead of him? 

The stomping of feet drew closer towards the threshold, and Keith pressed himself closer against the wall. He couldn’t be seen. 

“We won’t leave until we find it!” 

“We’re hungry!” someone whined. A woman’s voice. There was a pounding, a slap. Keith slipped away just as two or three figures stormed out the room. They were gone before Keith had a good look at them. He stayed where he was, ear pressed against the wall. He was sure he could hear kissing inside the room now between the remaining inhabitants. Then all grew silent. Moments later the muffled whoosh of the shower filled the room. 

_My only chance_ , Keith thought, realizing that the door was still open. 

He inched towards the door, checked inside, and slipped in. 

_I’m going to get killed_ , he thought at the same time as he thought, _I’ll kill them. They got Shiro!_ His fingers slid over the top of his jean pocket, feeling for the pocket knife. Just in case. 

He searched around the wrecked suite. Where would Shiro put the note? What part of the hotel had Keith loved most? Making love on the king-sized bed—goodness, he had to move as silently as he could towards the bedroom, hoping the lovers in the shower didn’t step out—and peering out over the window, to the vastness below. 

The window. A tiny rolled up slip of paper was tucked in the curtain, right at the very top. No one would think to look there if they didn’t look up. 

Keith quickly checked around himself then jumped to the tip of his toes, snatching the slip of paper. 

“Ah!” came a pleasured cry from the shower. 

“What was that sound?” came the man’s voice. 

“They could be back,” the woman replied coldly, clearly annoyed by the interruption. 

Keith glanced towards the door and his throat went dry. The elevator door was opening. For all he knew, the other cohorts could be heading back. 

He rushed out of the suite and made a mad dash for his own suite. He found it and flashed his card over the sensor. Once the click of the door came, Keith threw himself in, sealing the door behind him. 

Breathing heavily, he collapsed into the closest lounge chair. 

“I did it,” Keith said under his breath, laughing lightly. “You owe me one, Shiro.” 

Now, how to get out of here? His stomach began to rumble, but Keith ignored it. Hotel meals cost an arm and a leg, and he wasn’t going to purge Shiro’s money any more than was necessary. Speaking of, he switched on the hotel’s computer and decided to pay online for the brief stay using the numbers Shiro had given him. 

Then he turned to the note. Written in Brahmi script: 

_Spiral out! Keep going!_

_Wedding bells are ringing! Remember how we planned our big day?_

Keith studied the map. The areas were getting larger, and he was going East next. But he was certain where he was going next. A sad smile played on his lips. Shiro was taking Keith back in time, starting with the most recent significant location they’ve been to. Simple, cozy familiar places in their marital life, then their honeymoon, and now the place they planned their wedding. 

He glanced at the door, then decided to set his phone’s alarm for half-hour. He’ll take a nap, and then check if the coast was clear. And then it’ll be off to the Clark County Wetlands Park.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

The phone alarm came with a few dozen missed calls and messages from Pidge. Feeling even more guilty, Keith sent her a quick message that he was fine, but busy today.

 _Not a word of this is a lie_ , he thought. _Just not the full story._

The intruders of Keith and Shiro’s old suite had either eventually given up and left, or someone had finally decided to shut the door. Either way, Keith didn’t take the chance. He gave the hotel as wide a berth as he could and set off towards the park, stopping only to grab a quick and light meal. His hoverbike’s wings expanded as he hit rural road. After this point, he figured, he’d be using this more and more. 

They had come here over ten years ago, with Krolia and Takara. It wasn’t a mountain or canyon, but it was a nice walk, with a beautiful view, bridges, and a place to sit and have a picnic. Keith sat where he had been all those years ago, eating his light late lunch and remembering how the four of them had talked excitedly about their small yet special wedding. 

After the heart-stopping adventure of stealing the clue from the invaded hotel room, this was far more peaceful, but also a far worse puzzle to solve. Keith sat in the same picnic table, but there was nothing lodged in the cracks of the wooden seats. 

Where else could Shiro had put the clue? 

After finishing his lunch, a wave of nostalgia swept over Keith. He remembered how, after they were done, after how Krolia, wearing the fondest smile, had told Keith his father would have been so happy and proud of him. He had gotten overwhelmed. The two had wept while Takara tried to give them privacy as she finalized some plans on her tablet and silently verifying them with Shiro. Then the two women let them be as they strolled together down the walkway. It was a low bridge that snaked over the lake, and Keith found himself following those same steps, remembering how they had walked with Shiro’s hand around him. 

“It’s really happening,” Shiro had said softly, excited and also with that slight trepidation as if he couldn’t believe it, as if speaking would wake him from a beautiful dream. 

Keith nodded and buried his cheek against Shiro’s chest. “I love you so much, Shiro.” 

Keith stopped. They were standing right here, watching the beautiful trees lining the lake. The water was shallow here, and looking down Keith noticed a tiny glass bottle, tucked snuggly in the soft mud on the bank’s edge, so close to the bridge that anyone else would have easily missed it. 

Message in a bottle. 

Smiling, he bent down and plucked the bottle out. 

“Good one, Shiro,” Keith said affectionately. He had written this note in Egyptian hieroglyphics: 

_Spiral out! Keep going!_

_Will you marry me?_

Keith’s eyes welled up. He didn’t even need the map to know where this was. South of the Wetland Park lay a canyon very dear to him.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

The tears still clung to the corner of Keith’s eyes by the time his hoverbike slowed to the entrance of the Sloan Canyon National Conservation Area. No matter the size of the canyon, he knew perfectly well where Shiro wanted him to go. He could still recall that day as if it had happened just yesterday.

They had taken a trip here alone when it had begun to rain, chasing them towards the mouth of a cave up on one of the mountains. The rain hadn’t lasted long, and at the end, a great beautiful rainbow arced over the canyon. 

“Beautiful,” Shiro had marveled under his breath, and Keith had noted a strangeness in his tone, as if the sight had both moved and spooked him. “It’s…it’s perfect. Everything. Perfect. Like you.” 

Keith smiled, but then Shiro took his hand and got on one knee, and Keith then understood the reason why Shiro had marveled at the timing of that rainbow. Precipitation from the rain, dropping from the cave mouth’s ceiling, dampened their hair as they embraced and kissed, holding tight as their laughter carried under the rainbow. 

They had marked the place where they had officially becomes fiancés. 

The area still had the etchings of their initials in Akkadian. Keith smiled sadly as his fingers traced the etchings. They had worked on it together. 

There were some fissures in the red rock, and Keith traced the line until they brushed against a slightly wider crevice. Slowly he worked out the slip of paper. Just like their engagement announcement, the note was also written in Akkadian: 

_Spiral out! Keep going!_

_Our date among the stars._

Keith sighed though he was smiling. “Another canyon. All right, Shiro. For you, love.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Taking Shiro to Red Rock Canyon had been Krolia’s idea. Keith wasn’t totally surprised by her suggestion. Ask his mother for any advise on travels or what to do on a afternoon, and it would normally have something to do with climbing mountains or visiting the most majestic canyons. She had come with them if only because Keith wasn’t sure if Shiro could handle that sort of outdoor activity. They were getting serious, but Keith didn’t want to scare Shiro away with his sort of lifestyle.

But she had wanted Shiro see the Red Rock Canyon. And Shiro, to Keith’s relief, had loved being there with them. His mother had chosen well. 

And Keith was fairly confident he knew where Shiro had left the next note. 

They had a favorite spot. The three of them had sat on the highest plateau they could find that night, just staring up and admiring the night sky. It was a real treat for Shiro, who held Keith’s hand as he marveled about the Milky Way and the constellations. Krolia sat cross-legged nearby but otherwise giving them enough space for some privacy. 

Keith located the plateau and sat up, looking up at the sky. The sun would be setting in a few more hours. He had to move faster. 

He searched through the surface, frowning when he found nothing. 

“No…please…Shiro…I’ve come so far.” 

His fingers finally caught on something, but it wasn’t a slip of paper. Shiro had written this on the surface itself, in Glagolitic script. 

_Keep going! Spiral out!_

_Modest Mussorgsky_

“What?” 

Keith had to laugh, but the memory came rolling back to him.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Shiro could laugh all he wanted. Keith was burying his face in his chest as the animated film rolled on their screen. It was their first holiday break from the Garrison, and they had decided to spend it binging on movies together in Keith’s home.

“Really?” Shiro asked, not in mockery but with the softest of concern in his voice as a hand carded through Keith’s hair. “This is scaring you?” 

Perhaps it had something to do with the lighting on the television screen, but it had made Chernabog ten times more frightening, his eyes ten time brighter and sneer ten times more menacing. And children had seen this in an long ago era? 

Not even Godzilla had been this bad. Or any of the black-and-white Universal Film monster folks. Or Mothra. It was a damn cartoon demon that became too intense to watch. 

As much as Keith had been a voracious reader, he hadn’t ever imagined a demon as heinous as _that_. He began to wonder if he was too soft, or if the humans who lived in older times were more thick-skinned. 

“A giant demonic shadow-bat with arms that stretched everywhere and pulled spirits from the graves and forced them to dance in any which way he pleased? This is worse than how I imagined Morgoth,” Keith said. 

Shiro laughed. 

“And you like this stuff?”

“It’s eerie,” Shiro agreed, “and I like things that give me goosebumps.” He winked at Keith. 

He switched off the movie while giving Keith a comforting pat on the back. Keith pulled away. “It’s also a holiday. Modest Mussorgsky wrote this about a witches sabbath taking place on Saint John’s Eve.” 

Shiro stood up and glanced out of the window of the RV. Keith nodded. There he went with the witches talk again. 

“There’s a Bald Mountain not too far from here,” Shiro said, smiling back at Keith as sunlight shined behind his handsome face. Keith’s heart fluttered. 

“I know,” Keith said. “Mom took me there a few times.” 

Shiro’s smile grew. “And no ancient Slavic demon-gods live there.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Nevada’s Bald Mountain wasn’t nearly as dark and impressive as the one from Fantasia, not something any Chernabog would like to sit perched at as he took up souls to the underworld. But it sat right on the spiral Keith had drawn up, one of the largest arcs yet. The next spiral would take him out of Nevada, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to travel further. After all, this landmark was one of their earliest moments together. He couldn’t imagine where else Shiro would want him to go.

His hoverbike took him past Area 51, and Keith drove as quickly as he could lest he drew attention to himself. 

He parked the hoverbike a little ways off, away from any public eye, and made for the cave he and Shiro had visited before. If there was something waiting for him, Shiro for sure would have placed it there. 

His heart hammered. The spiral was getting too big. This had to be it. 

He ran into the cave. There was a slip of paper dangling from the roof of the cave. 

The writing, Keith realized, wasn’t in any ancient language. It was Golic Vulcan and it had only one word on there:

 _Death_

“NO!” 

He snatched it off the roof, crushing the paper in his hand. 

“Shiro, why?” he hissed. “What the hell?!” 

Shiro couldn’t have died, he kept telling himself. Hadn’t he spent the last month learning this? Shiro was alive. He had been communicating to Keith through radio waves. 

_Unless if he’s died and exists in another realm_ , Keith thought but quickly pushed the thought away. No, no, Shiro was somewhere. He searched frantically, then suddenly remembering the pen flashlight he had grabbed from his desk early that morning, he fished it out and clicked it on. 

There were several crevices inside the cave, and a brief scan reflected off the surface of another slip of paper, a little deeper into the cave. It was a little high up, but Keith pocketed the pen and climbed, thanking his mother for all the years she had spent training him mountain climbing. 

The slip was also written in Golic Vulcan: _Life_

“What are you trying to tell me, Shiro?” Keith yelled out, his voice echoing in the cave. He peered closer at the two slips, then noticed a tiny indentation at the corner. Five. There were five of these slips, and Keith so far had two. 

Keith took a few deep breaths. “Okay. Five. Got it, Shiro.” 

The others weren’t too hard to find. With a set goal in mind, he just needed a flashlight, sharp eye, and to climb to get to the others. 

The real concern became why the sudden change in pattern. No more clues in ancient language. No more notes starting with a “Spiral out! Keep going!” 

Had he come to the end of the spiral, then? 

Keith set the remaining three pieces down: _From_ , _Springs_ , _Where_. 

A puzzle, then. Written in a language only he and Keith would likely know, in case anyone from Area 51 found out. He must have been chased, Keith surmised sadly as he shifted the pieces around. 

_Death where life springs from_? Good guess, but he couldn’t parse anything about that message. He tried again. 

What was he supposed to do with this information anyway? Was he meant to find the next path on the spiral, or was he supposed to dig around the cave? And why Vulcan? Shiro had used it before, in Keith’s apartment, when he knew he was being watched. He must have been compromised, right? And where—

Keith paused and took another deep, steading breath. _Patience yields focus._

He continued to breath deeply and calmly as he shifted the papers around. He leaned back and read the next set. 

_Where life springs from death._

That sounded _very_ familiar. Frowning, Keith exchanged the words “life” and “death” and read the line again. 

_Where death springs from life._

_Ash Meadows National Wildlife Refuge_ , Keith thought, _Where the desert springs to life._ he was too afraid to speak the words, as if some foe might overhear and follow him to his next destination, but the words rang out in his mind, loud and echoing. This had to be it. 

But the word “death” was also a clue. Like...Death Valley. And he knew exactly where Shiro wanted him to go. Somewhere between Death Valley and Ash Meadows National Wildlife Refuge, in an uncharted region in the middle of the desert, was a tiny shack. They had lodged there before, for their study and sex sessions (as they had called it in their Garrison days), or just to sit over the roof and study the stars. The place would be shrouded in pitch black at night, making stargazing ideal. 

Perhaps Shiro wasn’t running from an enemy with these clues, but trying to convey their most well-kept secret to Keith. 

He collected the pieces of papers and shoved them in the back pocket of his jeans before leaving. He would have to break the spiral, and cross back through Area 51. 

The sun was setting. He thought of the sun glowing around Shiro, and his heart ached. 

He hoped no officials will take notice of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bits of the song “Lateralus” are interwoven in this chapter, such as in the song-clue Shiro gives Keith, as well as the first memory in this chapter. 
> 
> Owner of the L & J is named after a friend! When I asked who wanted to be a cameo character for my SBB, Mel volunteered! :’D


	7. I don't have a lot of time

The sky was rolling towards astronomical twilight as Keith neared the shack. It was the same black-blue sky that Keith had seen fall over the cemetery near his apartment months ago, a sense of void and death that came from the the nautical twilight sky, and his heart clenched. Tonight he would have the answers, he would be closer to Shiro than he ever was before, and yet…why did dread sit deeper in his chest? 

He parked his hover-bike and checked around himself before dismounting. Sand blew around his boots. Chill had crept into the night air, and Keith rubbed his arms to insulate them. A brief memory, running down this same empty road, a little cold but also thrilled as an arm was wrapped around him; they chatted excitedly, filling the desert night with warmth as they made their way to the tiny lonely shack. Life had been so much simpler then. Everything was full of wonder and amusement. He still remembered why they were laughing that night: a song called ‘Welcome to Paradise’ was playing on the radio, the irony being that they were leaving Paradise behind for the weekend. 

Keith felt around the keys in his hand. He still had his own copy, even after all these years. The little place was theirs, and it was some weird miracle no one had thought to bulldoze the building. 

Then again, it wasn’t like many people would know of this place, not when it was out in the middle of nowhere. It was the perfect hideaway. Why hadn’t Shiro just sent him here right away instead of going through that spiral? 

Keith checked over his shoulders. Enemies. He must have been trying to ward off as many of their foes with his wild riddles.

When he reached the door, he placed his hand over the surface, noting its temperature and feeling slightly disappointed that it wasn’t warm. He had harbored a tiny hope within that Shiro had been hiding out here all this time. 

The inside was pitch black, but Keith knew his way around. Immediate to his left was a counter, and he felt around until his hand struck something metal. He switched the battery-run lantern on and set it down on the counter, suddenly struck by intense familiarity of the place, left exactly as it was the last time they had been there as students. The ache in his chest grew, and Keith called out for Shiro out of yearning and grief. 

There were old ancient textbooks, discarded notes, perhaps tossed in after finals, with a few celebratory beers littered along. Among other books were subjects on astrological studies, tall and slim candles, and other trinkets buried under cobwebs that Keith couldn’t make out. Bones? He shivered. 

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion over the candles but he searched around for what Shiro had kept for him. 

“Shiro?” Keith called out gently, attentive to the tiniest sound. 

Over on an old pillow they once shared was a video cassette. In Shiro’s handwriting, scribbled in plain English, was “Keith.” 

The shack had a few ancient technologies stored inside, possibly tossed in by whoever had previously found the place and decided it made for a good junkyard in the years before Shiro and Keith had claimed the place. Good thing they had never tossed out the equipment; it worked out in their favor. Keith noted the video camcorder sitting nearby, then dug around for the VCR. 

The quality that crackled on the screen was filled with static for several moment, but when it cleared, it showed Shiro, sitting right where Keith was sitting in that moment. 

“Keith,” Shiro addressed. He sounded nothing like the mastermind trickster behind all of the clues Keith had been finding. Out of breath, his face slightly flushed, eyes bloodshot; had he been crying? “Keith, or anyone who comes across this video, I’m sorry. I…I don’t have a lot of time.” He brushed a hand over his head. “I’m, um, I’m Takashi Shirogane. I’m a former employee of Area 51. I was let go on medical leave about a—a week ago, and—and—”

He glanced towards the window, and even from here, Keith could see his husband’s heart pounding through his chest. 

“They’re going to triangulate on this position real soon, um…I’ve been trying to keep out of this ever since I—I found out, b-b-b-but my conscience wouldn’t let me—the world has to know—and—and this morning I was informed they’ve killed my father, because…because, we both knew, and—” 

He broke down in front of the camera, and Keith had to look away, heartbroken and not wanting to see him like this. Although Shiro couldn’t see him, it would be giving him some semblance of dignity. 

“I don’t know where to begin.” Shiro took a deep breath. “I’m in too deep. Keith, I cannot apologize enough.” Breathing heavily, he rubbed his eyes with trembling hands, fighting back even more tears. Whatever Keith had imagined, it wasn’t this. News of General Shirogane’s death had destroyed Shiro. Keith tried to imagine the events unfolding that fateful morning. Had Shiro gotten up in the early morning, perhaps during 3am, woken up by a text message that had informed him that his father was murdered? And had the entire plan unfolded from there? He had told his father he had a plan, and yet…

What had General Shirogane told Shiro, the thing Keith had overheard? _“A plan. You will always think you are one step ahead of the Garrison, my son, but soon enough you’ll realize you’ve only fallen into their trap.”_

“Okay, okay…” Keith jolted out of his reverie and turned back towards the screen. Every word was a struggle for Shiro. “What we think of as aliens…”

Another deep breath. 

“They’re not what they claim to be. For centuries we’ve searched other planets, to other worlds. We sent signals to outer space…but…but…Dr. H. Onerva, she…she discovered they live _here_. Like in the old stories of the djinn in Islamic teachings, like the stories of elves or Huldufólk in Icelandic lore, they are here. They see us. B-b-b-but, it’s more than that. She had…she had found they can come into our dimension through radio-waves. 

“And…so, the Area 51 had a special unit, a subdivision, founded by her husband, General Z. Arkon, the GALRA Unit. GALRA stands for Guild of Assistants in the Liberation of Radio-dimensional Aliens. Their entire purpose is to seek contact with these aliens and bring them into our dimension.”

His hands shook and he needed another moment to steady himself. Something beeped and flashed on his right, and Keith gasped in alarm when Shiro pulled back his sleeve to reveal a device implanted deeply in his right arm between his shoulder and elbow. Since when did he walk around with that? Why hadn’t Keith noticed it before? 

“They are not a benevolent race,” Shiro went on. “I…I was chosen to be a vessel between the two worlds. I—Keith, anyone watching this, we do not know how long it will take before they can begin the process, but they anticipate it will be just a few more months, _if_ they can get me to cooperate. Because I was foolish, I volunteered to get deeper in Area 51, to know as much as I can. I didn’t know any of this, or that they would…Keith, I’m so sorry. They might have tried to wipe your memory of it. I’m so sorry. 

“They did some things to me, but I feigned falling ill as a result from it. They put me on medical discharge, but they’ve been watching. They know I’ve faked my illness. They fear I may compromise the research. They want me back there, back in…it’s not Area 51. It’s—Keith, you cannot go there. It’s impossible to get out.

“These aliens do not wish to cooperate with us. They do not and will not listen to any government officials. They wish to destroy us, and…and General Arkon _will_ allow this. General Arkon holds a grudge against humanity that I was never able to alleviate or understand. He wishes to control the human population. Their primary targets are heavily populated cities first. There are places we can go, spread ourselves out so we would not be vulnerable, but they are not—!” 

His voice cracked. 

“No one is listening to me! They have not seen the other dimensions as I have!” He touched his right arm again, sliding it down to his wrist. “They are willing to watch half the human population get wiped out, because it will make controlling the remaining masses easier. This is what General Arkon thinks he can accomplish with these radio-dimensional aliens.” 

Shiro’s eyes flashed right towards the camera and something broke inside them as more tears filled them. “I’m so sorry, Keith. I’m so sorry, Mom. Aunt Akane. Yuuna. Krolia. I volunteered for this.” 

He hung his head, and several long moments passed as he continued to breath heavily, heaving and panting as he struggled with more grief. 

“I’m so sorry, father,” he eventually said, quietly. “Saturn ascended. When I saw it, I thought it meant you. I was wrong. Saturn did not mean you, Saturn was General Arkon and I could not reason with him.” 

Wide-eyed, he looked around himself. “No, no, but…Saturn was also trying to teach him, teach General Arkon…I…I…always feared seeing it in transits, and I now I have. I was such a fool, forgive me, father.”

“No…” was the tiniest sound Keith could make. His body had gone frozen cold from the video. After several long, painful moments his eyes trailed back towards the corner. The candles. The books. The tiny bones. 

_Your memory was wiped._ Not just by Allura and Dr. Coran, either. Or some parts were better scrubbed clean. 

Bald Mountain. Chernabog. The occult books from the L & J. The books left behind in their old home. The weird astronomy charts in the apartment. The little Saturn charm on Shiro’s phone. 

Fibonacci. Feeling the vibrations of the universe. 

Shiro wasn’t just a man who loved outer space and the stars. He experienced the universe in a wholly different way, saw the patterns in the very fabric of existence, saw the art in science and the science of art. Saw a patterned magic in everything—the rainbow on the day they got engaged, meaning behind numbers, meaning behind their birthdays—Scorpios and Pisces are natural soulmates, he had once said. 

He was a magician who didn’t need a wand nor a magic spell; everything was energy, even the stars. Everything impacted everything. And whatever had happened to him made him see it all the more starkly.

And Saturn had ascended. Keith remembered now. The final piece of the puzzle in his memory—he thought he had remembered it all, but there was something else. A piece of Shiro’s story and his he had nearly forgotten. 

“Keith, I am sorry,” came Shiro’s finally words, broken and resigned as something flashed behind him in the windows, before the video blacked out. 

“No!” Keith cried out and grabbed the screen, his heart tearing with want to find him more than ever. “Shiro! _SHIRO!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Welcome to Paradise](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOcrKFiB_ts) is by Green Day :D I heard this on the radio after coming home one evening and was going out of my mind because I absolutely had to reference this song in this fic somehow. I just had to! <3


	8. Saturn Ascends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A number of lines were lifted right from the song “The Grudge".

The video tape crackled and went dead, and Keith slid down, fists pressed on the floor as he panted heavily. Memories flooded his mind—how could he have forgotten this?—but he couldn’t move. Anger slowly stirred deep within his chest. His throat tightened; he couldn’t breath. His vision blurred. Everything was becoming clear—too clear—and hazy at once. 

“Keith?”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Shiro’s hands trembled as he pulled the tape out of the cam recorder, checking back every second at the light somewhere beyond the window. They couldn’t see the tape. No matter what, they mustn’t see the tape. He had to get out of the shack and hand himself in. Either he would get assassinated on the spot or dragged off back to the Fort, and neither thought was appealing. He’d have to hide the keys, shut the door from the outside and hope curiosity wouldn’t get to them, and they’d axe the place down.

He dragged off both video and recorder to the little indent he and Keith had turned into their bedroom many, many moons ago. It sat on the dusty pillow rather obviously, but at this point, Shiro was out of time; no use thinking up of any more clever hiding places. He’d been running so long, he was getting tired. He scribbled Keith’s name, then, as emotion gripped him again, gave it a little kiss. He might never see him again. 

He placed the cam recorder on the side and threw the keys into the corner. Before leaving, he pulled back the curtains and peered out, watching as a line of Area 51’s soldiers marched towards him. So many for one cornered, unarmed man. But that was General Arkon’s method, merciless beyond words. How could Shiro have ever once found his own father difficult to deal with? 

As Shiro prepared to meet them before the shack, he thought of a line he had once read. A song or poem written long ago before the Floods, it described General Arkon and the GALRA Unit grimly well as they trooped up towards him. He repeated the words to himself, face impassive, resigned, as he faced certain death: 

_Wear the grudge like a crown of negativity._

_Calculate what we will or will not tolerate._

_Desperate to control all and everything._

_Unable to forgive your scarlet lettermen._

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

“Takashi!”

Shiro nearly jumped out of his skin at his father’s booming voice. A moment later, and the general appeared at his door. General Hayato Shirogane stood tall with a piercing gaze, eyes of an iron grey; he regarded Shiro grim-faced like that of an android; on each side of his black hair were streaked grey and white like the wings of some bird, strangely appropriate for one who was a pilot. A high general of the air force, his suit stood out for being white and gold-trimmed, unlike the usual Garrison drab green. Shiro seldom ever saw it dirtied, and although he wouldn’t voice it out loud, he liked the way it looked. He wished he could wear it and perhaps he wouldn’t be afraid of anything anymore. 

“Takashi, your mother just informed me your math test came back.” 

Shiro tried not to cower away from his father’s gaze. The test sat next to him on his desk, face down. His mother had hugged and praised him, but that was his mother. The general was another matter. 

Suddenly feeling terrible, Shiro lifted the paper and vainly hoped that this time, his father would be proud. He had among the highest grade in the class this time. The teacher had stopped by Shiro’s desk and praised him, his big mustache bouncing with his bubbly voice. Shiro had felt good. He did good. 

_93/100_

The general’s lips thinned, eyes narrowing at the sheet. 

“Where did you go wrong?” he asked as he scanned the test. “Did you look it over? Do you know where you made your mistakes?” 

“No…I have homework right now.” 

General Shirogane shook his head. “This won’t do, Takashi! If you don’t see what you did wrong, you’re bound to repeat them! I know you’re better than this! Look it over and tell me what you did wrong!” 

Shiro flinched. His father had a point, but couldn’t he at least congratulate him on getting an A? 

“I had the highest grade…” he said, voice soft with forlorn and shame as he took the test back. “The teacher said he was impressed with me.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” General Shirogane said. “You have keep working at perfecting yourself. Letting praise get to your heart like that will only make you lazy. I know you can do better than this, Takashi. Next time I expect full marks.” 

“Yes sir.” 

The door shut, and tears welled up in Shiro’s eyes. The “Good job!” written in soft green ink across his test blurred in his vision. He thought he knew his multiplications table by heart. There was a pattern to it. But he forgot a couple. Maybe he wasn’t so good at it after all. 

He thought of the telephone in the middle of the hall, and wondered if he could get to it undetected. He could wait until his father was downstairs, or asleep, although his voice could rouse him if he called while the general was sleeping.

But why was he thinking like this? Was he possibly… 

_I’m not afraid of my father!_ Shiro thought after a moment, alarmed at his own thoughts. His hands clenched around the test paper. _I’m not afraid of my father!_

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Their ideas and theories seduced him. The stars called for him, but secrets of the universe rested just beyond the fingertips, right here on Earth. Dr. Onerva’s words intoxicated Shiro’s mind throughout the meeting, the frames of her glasses glimmering sharp gold in the darkened hall. If only Keith were here, he thought, then he would beg him to join him. Their skills were both so valuable!

But his father warned of meddling with this folk. They weren’t a respectful wing of the Garrison, or the most open. But if his father disagreed with them, then Shiro would join with them. 

How very wrong he was!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

“Takashi, my dear. Dessert is ready.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Shiro said, looking up to meet his grandfather’s eyes. He had his arms folded on the desk, having spent the last hour crying. Although the general was often out on missions, he had been at home more often lately, and his presence grew like a metric-ton tank on Shiro’s back. Another set of tests and essays. Many As, a couple of Bs on the higher end. None of them which pleased the general. One grade had reached as high as 98, but still the general’s eyes had narrowed at the one red mark on the essay, chastising Shiro for forgetting a basic rule of grammar. He couldn’t win. 

The last one was a C; that was the final straw. Shiro didn’t wait to make the phone call. Didn’t even wait to show his mother. 

They must have both hated him by now. He had run away from home, and this show of shameful weakness was surely going to make his mother see his true colors now. He was such a disappointment. 

Shiro had grabbed his bike and ran to the only place he knew he could hide. His grandfather never cared what Shiro’s grades were. Only that he was well fed and that none of his socks had wore thin; Grandpa Ryou hated nothing more in the world than the cold. 

And yet, he still half-suspected a telling-to when the old flower shop owner returned from his work, finding Shiro sitting on his porch. He greeted him with a hug and an offer for his favorite foods—rainbow grilled cheese sandwiches and some cake. 

“All right then,” Grandpa Ryou said as he set down the small plate of strawberries and a slice of cake. “Shiro, is it then?”

Shiro nodded, smiling and happy his grandfather remembered. Shiro meant white, and that was his favorite color. Even if was the same color as his father’s military suit. 

“Your mother called.” 

“They’re not upset, are they?” Shiro asked right away, looking down at his feet. “I bet she is.”

“She’s relieved you’re safe,” Grandpa Ryou said. “She suspected you came here to get away after seeing that your bike was missing.” 

“Does Dad know?” 

“Eventually. I discussed everything with your mother. It’ll settle down.” 

Shiro nodded slowly. “Can I stay here, Grandpa?” He had his own room in the house; he always used it whenever they visited on holidays or over the summer. “I promise I won’t be a bother. I’ll help in the garden. I just…I don’t want…” He bit his lip. General Shirogane was his grandfather’s son, and he didn’t want to speak ill of him. 

Grandpa Ryou smiled sadly, and Shiro momentarily wondered how much his grandfather had already guessed. “You can stay all you want, for however long you want.” 

Shiro’s face lit up and he reached for the plate. He thanked his grandfather for the sandwiches and dessert. 

“So what’s been upsetting you, son?” 

Shiro pulled out the essay with the C on it in ugly red. 

“Over a piece of paper?” 

“It’s my essay. I guess I didn’t get the meaning of the story.” 

Grandpa Ryou adjusted his glasses as he read through it. He didn’t speak for the longest time, and even Shiro began to panic. 

“If you ask me, I don’t think your teacher understood the story, either.” 

Shiro giggled into his mouthful of cake.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Years passed, and Shiro remained living with his grandfather. He routinely spoke with his mother on the phone, and he visited her when the general wasn’t around. The sound of his father’s voice or footsteps were enough to bring him panic.

Yet each time a new test result or essay came back, Shiro found himself disappointed in knowing he had gotten even a single question wrong. 

Grandpa Ryou would shrug off the grades. An occasional miss wasn’t unheard of for him. 

“Can’t win them all.” 

“That was a dry subject after all. Better luck next time!” 

“Just one missed question! But hey, you got the trick question right there, ya smart fella!” 

“I hated history too, dear boy. Let’s just watch Forrest Gump, that’s all the twentieth century history bullshit you need to understand.” 

And yet Shiro could only look at his mistakes. Because his father didn’t think he was perfect.

_But I am worthy_ , Shiro thought as he studied well into the night. His grandfather’s snores thundered comically across the hall. _Just you wait. I am worthy of all your pride._

_Damn you._

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Shiro awoke to his phone buzzing, half past two in the morning. He checked the caller ID, and all sleep escaped his eyes. He jolted up in bed, holding back a gasp.

He quickly turned to Keith sleeping soundly next to him, made certain the phone hadn’t woken him. Then slipping out, heart hammering, he head to the garage, putting as much distance as he could between himself and Keith. 

He switched the phone on. 

“Dad? Are you all right?” The sound of shrill tires screeching pierced Shiro’s ears just something else rang— _gunshots_. “OH MY G—DAD!”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

“When will Takashi get back?” Hayato asked, frowning as he settled on the edge of the bed.

Takara shrugged as she folded laundry nearby. “He likes it there. He preferred having your father there with him for the science fair.” 

“There was a science fair?” Hayato’s face brightened for a few moments before it softened at the realization. “Must have missed the announcement. How did—”

“He got first place,” Takara said flatly. 

“Well, that’s wonderful!” 

“Your father sent me a photo. They might put it in the yearbook. They usually do.” 

“You don’t seem excited. Didn’t he invite you?” 

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. What’s passed has passed. He is nice to me at least. But he refuses to step into his own home. But for what it’s worth…his grades have been getting better.” 

“Has it?” Hayato said, and several tight silent moments passed. He tried to place on a smile. “Perhaps the environment at Dad’s place has less distractions for him.” 

Takara sighed, her face growing redder with each passing second. “No. He’s finding it harder to concentrate with _you_ around.” 

“Me?” he paused, staring at his wife as if she had just stung him. 

Takara nodded matter-of-factly. “You’re too hard on him. I’ve heard you discussing his grades. You’ve never, ever congratulated him on anything, not even once! He began to think nothing would make you proud of him, not even when _I_ praise him. I could see it in his eyes. He wishes he could make you proud, but he feels there’s nothing he can do!”

“What—Of course I’m proud of him!” Hayato cried, gripping his chest. “He’s my son! We have an amazing child, Takara! He’s incredibly gifted! And I want him to be the best in everything because I _know_ he is the best! I’m not a bad man, Takara, you know that! I would die for him! Anyone can come shoot me right now, and I will take the bullet for him!” 

Takara sighed and tossed another folded-up sock in the drawer.

“I know, Hayato. But that’s not how your actions came off to him. Our Takashi gave up on us.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Shiro sighed heavily, his eyes returning back to the card thrown a little away from the small pile.

 _I’m so proud of you, my son_ , read the card. It was among the first he had received after news of his engagement with Keith was announced. 

“I can’t _not_ invite him. I’m not that cruel. But…everything he said to me, made me feel..” 

Keith nodded, smiling in understanding. “Maybe it’s time to bury the past?” 

Shiro looked up, and Keith shrugged. “I’d like to meet him.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

For Shiro’s birthday, Grandpa Ryou had given him a telescope and a couple books on astronomy, and making use of the longer winter nights, Shiro took to studying the stars whenever he could. Of all the planets, he loved Saturn the most, large and golden and beautiful with its golden rings. He devoured all of the books, then hunted for more information online.

Yet his attention soon delved beyond astronomy. 

Astrology was fun at first. Reading everything he could about Pisces from the internet and library books, he soon learned there was more than just a Sun sign. Moon sign, Mercury sign, Ascendent, Midpoint Heaven, conjunctions and squares and trines. Transits and aspects. The stars in the sky vibrated with energies whose positions, angles to one another could be studied mathematically, quantified, understood and explained by a set of well-defined rules: if sextile or trine, a good aspect; if conjunction or square, a bad aspect. 

Through deeper and deeper study, the stars took on personalities. The moon emotional, often a sign of problems with the mother. Venus for love and general happiness. Mars for aggression, problems with authority. Pluto for transformations, change, death (often metaphorical). Jupiter for ease and luck and prosperity (and sometimes, increase in waistline). 

Saturn took on a sinister appearance, made worse by the validity of Shiro’s studies. Each time Saturn appeared in transits, aspecting with other planets, each time Saturn ascended…

Nightmares of his father resurfaced. 

_Hang on or be humbled again._

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

_I am proud of you, my son._

The words were scribbled on a card that lay abandoned on the kitchen countertop. Shiro had glanced at them for a moment after Aunt Akane handed it to him and tossed them aside. 

_He doesn’t mean them_ , he thought bitterly. His father had been sending him cards like these every now and then, ever since he got first place in that science fair years ago. What was he trying to prove? That he finally approved of Shiro? 

His heart ached. 

_Isn’t that what you really want?_ he asked himself before pushing the thought away. He didn’t need his father. 

“So, Garrison?” Akane said with hands on her hips, humor in her melodic voice. “Just like your old man.” 

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “They have a space program. I’m interested in that. It’s not just military.” 

Akane nodded and gave a little snort. She searched through the fridge and pulled out orange juice; she drank straight out of the carton before giving a lively belch. 

“The further you run away from your dad, the more like him you become.” 

“I’m not a cold, hard asshole like him!” 

Giving a loud whoop, Akane threw her head back and laughed. “Watch it, that’s my brother you’re talking shit about!” 

“I’m nothing like him!” Shiro insisted. “He’s constantly uptight about everything that he’s been greying ever since I was in grade school!” 

“Meanwhile, you pray to the heavens with your candles and crystals,” Akane said. “Not mocking! I like that! You got conviction!” 

She plopped down on the kitchen stool. “But yeah, he can be an ass sometimes. All big bros are, I suppose. But you’re both passionate in what you believe in. Not likely to find either of you sleeping on the job. Not like me. I disappointed Dad all the time. Slept through all my classes. Slept in the garden. Slept in the flower shop, on the flowers. He still loved me.” 

But her joking fell on deaf ears. Shiro’s lower lip quivered as he glanced about himself. Staying here the last two years had been painful. His mother had begged him to return home, but even at this age, about to graduate in just a few days, having been accepted to a school, having been announced as his graduating class valedictorian, Shiro still wouldn’t face his father. 

“He wasn’t at Grandpa’s funeral,” Shiro said, frowning. 

“He was busy,” Akane said, turning more serious. “It hurt him, trust me. I was on the phone with him for hours crying with him. We both love Dad very much. I would have stayed with him and that flower shop forever if I hadn’t discovered hover-bikes and Yuuna.” Her gaze dulled as she stared off into the distance, carton still in hand. “I left home too soon. Dad still needed me.” 

Shiro winced, thinking of his own father. But his grades had been near flawless since coming here. Even if it meant studying alone in a house too quiet, missing the snacks his grandfather would make for him, and occasionally being visited by Akane. His mother didn’t see him often. Perhaps he had disappointed her. 

His heart ached, and it slowly burned to more hate towards his father.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

“Dad? DAD!”

When did he begin calling him that? Just yesterday? It didn’t matter. 

The moment General Shirogane’s voice came on the other end of the phone, Shiro could have reached through the connection and given him the greatest hug. 

“I’m here, Takashi.” 

“Dad, where are you?” Shiro begged. 

“Takashi, I have warned you about the Garrison and Area 51,” his father was panting on the other line. He sounded much weaker than the night before. Too weak, and General Shirogane gave an image of strength even at his age. Shiro’s palms went ice cold and clammy, and he had half a mind to rouse Keith, but—Keith wasn’t directly involved. He, Shiro, had gotten them all in this mess. 

He’d gotten his own father into a dire situation. 

“Dad, what did you do?” 

“Keith will have protection…my son…I…but…I’m afraid I can only do so much. They’re….always…one step…ahead.”

“Dad?”

“Please, understand, I’ve never meant to…Takashi…I’ve always cherished you…never meant to hurt…you’ve always made…proud.” 

Tires screeched again. 

“Takashi—you have to run!”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

The young man was a mighty cute thing. Shiro was instantly drawn to him.

A singular, lone figure in the sea of Garrison students, the young man didn’t walk with any companion but kept to himself. It was not that he was haughty or arrogant. He’d draw out of his reverie to help anyone with direction or any other simple question before slipping back into his own world. He carried an air of mystery, an ocean's dark depths drawing in Shiro's more familiar stream. 

They didn’t share any classes, but Shiro found him at the library, learned his name and what his interests were. Excited, he tried to sneak in an offer for teaching his mother tongue as a means of a date, only to be turned down.

Shiro’s heart instantly froze— _I have failed, I am not good enough_ —when Keith reached over and corrected himself. His smile said it all. He _was_ genuinely interested. 

It was hours later before his heart calmed, but Shiro could practically weep with joy.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

This wasn’t at all how Shiro thought it would be. Dr. H. Onerva never took off her dark glasses, even in the dimmed sub-basement of The Fort. Her grin sent a jolt of horror through Shiro each time he came in and out of the device.

 _Why do I remain?_

His dreams dulled to grey and black, nightmares of The Fort, of the belly of Area 51’s most bloodthirsty secret, Dr. Onerva’s laughter ringing like that of witches. 

He awoke, the inside of his right arm burning with pain. He couldn’t tell Keith.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Shiro opened up to Keith about his interest in the occult months into their friendship, as their relationship was steadily maturing into that of romance. To his relief, Keith had taken the news with the same intellectual interest he took everything else. The fact that Shiro occasionally set up altars and attempted spells did not deter him; plenty of ancient cultures believed in them, he said with adoration, and there was no need to abandon such beliefs if they gave one comfort. He had even offered teaching Shiro a few lines of numerous ancient languages, in return for Shiro teaching him Japanese.

As to astrology, Keith was curious to see reading of charts in action. 

“Like another language,” Keith said as he studied a transit chart and his own natal chart that Shiro had drawn up, having lost interest in his own studies for the moment. There was also the synastry of both of their natal charts compared together, which Shiro blushed over; not that Keith understood the significance of their aspects, but Shiro’s jaws had nearly dropped at the clear indication of their chart. _Fate._

“Reading messages from positions of the stars. I’ve really fallen for a witch.” He looked up with a wink, but Shiro was thankful he was taking this all without finding him too odd. “And what of Saturn? You have it attached to your phone.”

“It used to be one of my favorite planets,” Shiro explained. 

“Used to?” 

“Then I learned what it means in astronomy.” 

He pushed one of his books closer to Keith. It was from his own personal collection, for the Garrison didn’t keep copies of myth and folklore. The picture of the mythological Saturn, a large monstrous man tearing a smaller human being, sent chills down Keith’s spine. 

“‘Saturn Devouring His Son’ by Francisco Goya,” Shiro read the description. “In myth, Saturn ate his children to prevent the fulfillment of a prophecy that would destroy him. That is what the planet represents in astronomy. Saturn is the father trying to keep things as he wants them, and whenever the planet shows up in charts and aspects to other planets, it restricts everyone and everything. Doesn’t matter if you also have a positive aspect such as a trine to Venus or Jupiter happening; Saturn will often subdue their influence and cause fear and negativity towards the unknown. It also doesn’t matter how many times you’ve experienced those feelings before, Saturn will rise again to remind you you, again and again, about your limits, ignorant to the damage done around it. Like a child you are helpless against Saturn’s power.” 

“Not a very kind father,” Keith said. 

“No,” Shiro agreed. “Reminds me too much of my own father.” 

“I’m sorry.” Keith bit his lower lip as silence. Then after a few moments: “Is that why you have it on your phone?” 

Shiro shrugged. “Still a pretty planet? Complicated relationship?”

“Ah. Does Saturn impact just an individual or an entire…”

“You mean mundane astrology?” Shiro said, smiling sadly. “Yes, Saturn has lessons for the entire human population as well. Why else do we as a race keep making the same mistakes, the same wars? Because Saturn ascends, sees we have not listened, and uses its power to teach us of our weakness again, despite the open wounds from our previous lashings.”

Keith winced. “Yeah, not a nice planet. Think we can start a petition to just blow up Saturn?” 

They both chuckled lightly. 

“I’m afraid we need Saturn, like all the other planets,” Shiro said. 

“Even if they continue to hurt us,” Keith mused. “I’m sorry.” 

“About what?” 

“Your father.” 

Shiro blushed at Keith’s smile, thanking the universe for letting their paths cross. “It’s fine. My mother keeps telling me he just wanted the best for me, but I feel he did a lot more damage that way.” 

“Ah…” Keith leaned forward, folding his arms before him. “I had a good relationship with my dad, but if I ever hated him, it was after he died.” 

“Really? How?” Shiro leaned in closer. “He was a firefighter, wasn’t he?” 

Keith nodded. “He alone ran into the burning house to save Mom and me. Told us to run. We ran. And ran. I don’t think Mom ever stopped running. We never had a proper house after that. It was always living in that RV, and Mom exploring mountains and canyons and everything you can think of. She was always the outdoorsy type, but after Dad died, it just got worse. And as a result I felt…aimless. Just wandering without any purpose. 

“I studied in the RV. Read all the books you could think of. Found my passion in languages from books. I was so alone for years that I couldn’t help but wonder how different it would have all been if he was still around.” 

“Oh, Keith…I didn’t know…” 

“It’s fine,” Keith said, shrugging. “I don’t…hate my dad or anything. But sometimes there’s some resentment, I guess? It’s so hard to explain.” 

Shiro nodded, understanding him completely. He peered back at the painting of Saturn devouring his son. Though in different ways, both Keith and himself had scars left over from their fathers.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

_Saturn ascends_ , Shiro thought, frowning. The damned planet aspected with Mars, Pluto, Neptune, Mercury—all hard aspects. Signs of war. Danger. This hadn’t happened before in his readings.

He thought of the Garrison, of Area 51. Of his father warning him against joining. 

Was this a warning to Shiro? Not to listen to his father? The biggest fight of his life? 

He shrugged off the thought. He wasn’t afraid of his father. He didn’t need his approval.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

The general embraced Shiro so tightly that he was nearly embarrassed. He didn’t hug back, but even after his father finally pulled away, it didn’t look like his lack of reaction offended him.

“Thank you, my son,” he said. “For inviting me. I’m so proud of you! My son has grown into a handsome man!”

Tears glimmered in the corners of his eyes, and Shiro was nearly alarmed out of his skin to see them. His father was still holding him, clearly wanting to hug him again, but Shiro glanced away, wanting him to _just go away_ , despite a tiny voice yearned for this. How many years had he begged to heart those words? 

Shiro looked everywhere but at his father. Would Keith be enough, he found himself wondering and feeling sick at the intrusive thought. 

His rescue came from none other than his groom, appearing at his side and looking handsome and in their matching suits. The general’s arm immediately went around Keith, nearly knocking the wind out of him. 

Shiro watched them, wondering why his father felt the need to fake his affections this far.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

“General Arkon,” Shiro said with a salute. He could hardly wait before the general gave him the clear to speak. “Please, you cannot go with this!”

The general gave a deep, guttural grunt as he studied the readings on the screen. “And why not?” 

“I—I know why you’re doing this!” Shiro said, bolder than he should be. His stomach twisted in pain, one of the many side effects of undergoing Dr. Onerva’s procedure, and it drove him to speak. He could get shot down right now, in the belly of the Fort known as the Haggarium, and Keith would never know what had happened to him. “It’s because you cannot forgive the world for the way it turned its back on your family! You think the radio-dimensional beings are saviors for bringing back your wife and son from death, but I’m telling you! They are not to be trusted! They want your trust so they can come into our world and take over! They won’t spare you at all! I’ve seen them, I’ve met them! I tried to reason with them myself, and—” 

“SHUT UP!” 

Shiro flinched, his hand flying up as if to guard himself from—from what? His mind had flashed to an image of his father about to strike him, but his father never had. Only in nightmares. And General Arkon hadn’t turned away from studying the screens. 

Shiro frowned. 

“And what of it?” General Arkon hissed, his back still turned to Shiro. “What of it if half the world is destroyed in the dawn of their arrival? It halves the fools we’ll have to deal with in the aftermath!” 

It hit him there, standing there trying to talking sense to the general. 

“You have to let go!” Shiro wanted to beg, but he could form no words. 

Saturn ascends. 

Who was the father here? Who was trying to teach who a lesson? Who still held on to their grudge? 

Shiro took a step back as a slow realization dawned on him, making him feel sicker to his stomach. 

_Father…I’ve been foolish._

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

_Saturn comes back around to show you everything_

_Let's you choose what you will, will not see and then_

_Drags you down like a stone or lifts you up again_

_Spits you out like a child, light and innocent._

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

The sound of a crash and gunshots reverberated inside the phone.

“DAD!” 

The line went dead. 

Shiro fell to his knees. 

“DAD?!” 

Pressing his fingers against his mouth, he rang his father back, but the phone rang and rang, going to voicemail. He tried again, then again. Again. 

Tears streaked his face. 

“Dad…”

He had to carry on with the plan. _Keith, I’m so sorry. Dad, I’m so sorry!_

_“Takashi—you have to run!”_

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

_Saturn lifts you up like a child, or drags you like a stone to consume you…till you choose to let this go._

It was three years into their marriage when Keith brought up the idea. Living under a solid roof again had become too much for him. It had felt odd realizing he was living like this forever without the knowledge of returning to the RV, and the tension that hung each time General Shirogane was mentioned was starting to fill their otherwise perfect home with too much negative energy. 

“Thanks, Dad,” Keith had once said lightly, but Shiro could tell the experience was alien for Keith. 

Keith had wanted to do this, and after the two discussed the idea more, Shiro warmed up to the thought of performing the rite. 

The master bathroom contained a jacuzzi tub large and diamond-shaped, the wide edges adorned with flowers and ferns. They filled it to the brim, letting the water teem to the edge. 

They each took a stone, and spoke their woes, passing on their scars to the stone. 

Shiro, being the one with magic, led the rite. He held Keith’s hand, the one that held the stone, over the water’s surface. His own stone was tucked between his own thumb and index finger. 

“Give away the stone,” he instructed, his voice reverberating in the bath clear and commanding. Keith shivered at the tone. “Let the oceans take and transmutate this cold and fated anchor.” 

Keith drew in a deep breath, thinking of his father and how his death had impacted him. 

_Would I have been the person I am if it weren’t for Dad?_ he wondered. _Would I have fallen for books, for languages, have gotten into the Garrison, met Shiro?_

Shiro brought their hands lower, the water kissing their flesh. 

Keith smiled sadly. _I can stop running. I found safety, Dad. I’ve found someone I can settle down with._

“Give away the stone,” Shiro said against his ear, softly enough to send a shiver up his spine. “Let the waters kiss and transmutate these leaden grudges into gold!” 

Keith released a long exhale, and with that, all resentment of his father as the stone fell from his hand. To his delight, the residue from the stone glittered like gold under the water’s surface. Next to him, Shiro’s own hand gleamed a beautiful gold. 

“I feel healed,” Keith said. “Thank you.” 

“May this heaviness never burden us again,” Shiro said, and kissed his shoulder.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

The scream that rippled through the night sky only grew in its grief and agony.

“Keith. Keith!” 

Keith pounded the floor of the shack. No, no—he remembered it all now, Shiro’s side of the story, his obsession with the stars, with reading them, with the occult. 

_How. How did he forget such vital—_

“Keith!” 

That voice, who else—

“Shiro?” Keith glanced up. Something in the television must have triggered a radio-wave signal for Shiro to find him, for he stood in the middle of the shack just as he had before in Keith’s apartment, partially transparent, static and violet. 

“You made it,” he said, smiling sadly at Keith. 

Keith nodded. “And I remember everything. Where is the Fort? You mentioned it before. Where is it?” 

Shiro shook his head and raised up his hands. “Keith, please…just let go. Share what you’ve seen.” 

“NO!” Keith jumped to his feet. “They’re keeping you hooked up to a machine somewhere! You’re still alive! I won’t let them keep you!” 

“Keith, please!” Shiro glanced around himself. “They’re coming.” 

Keith marched to the window and pulled the curtains back. 

“ _Fuck!_ I’ll fight them.” 

“You won’t stand a chance. _Please_ , Keith!” 

Keith’s chest rose and fell heavily as he considered his options. “I’ll hunt down General Iverson. I’ll shake up the Garrison. Go down to Area 51 myself if I have to—The Fort! I know you’ve mentioned it before! That’s where they’re keeping you, isn’t it?” 

“Keith, no, please, let go, I’m not worthy of—”

“Shiro, you are everything to me!” Keith screamed, pounding his chest. _“EVERYTHING!”_

They were getting closer. 

Remembering his hover-bike was still out there, Keith ran out without another word, his mind screaming with all thought of Shiro.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Dr. Onerva looked up. The vessel was unusually twitchy tonight, his nightmares worse than she’s ever witnessed. The mask pressed against his face hid his face, but a thin trickle of blood told her it must have been rubbing against the bridge of his nose again.

He thrashed in his place on the operating table, screaming “Let go!” as if a mantra. She had to check her screens to make certain the vessel hadn’t come into contact with one of the aliens. Most unfortunate timing that would be. She needed them, but not at this moment. There were still more tests to conduct. 

The screaming would have annoyed her had she still been like the woman before her and her son’s deaths; sound used to always be of a nuisance. Now she found within it the keys to unlock all realities. His voice in particular was a sweet sound, especially when he cried out in pain after they revived him. 

The vessel yelled out a name, and her lips thinned.

Approaching him slowly, she pulled back the mask. It had indeed cut across his nose again. His eyes were wide open and unseeing, his face frozen in horror. 

She brought her hand over the vessel’s eyes and began an incantation.


	9. Triad

Fury charged through Keith’s veins; he nearly couldn’t see the desert road, red-sighted as his vision had become. He made a beeline for his hover-bike and kicked it off into gear just as the first bullet grazed the back end. Another missed his left ear by a few inches. 

He cussed, and as anger rose, the noise in his throat came out as a growl, the sound drowned by the roar of the engine as it kicked into life and flew off, kicking off dust in its wake.

His pursuers were hot on his tail. They were still a good distance off, enough that Keith wouldn’t have gotten a good look at them even if there was light on the streets, but he couldn’t slow down for even a moment to think. Any slip and they would overcome him. Dodging the bullets was another issue. 

He had only one weapon: the purple pocket knife his mother had given him. He could turn around and fling it at one of them, but he wasn’t certain of his aim at this angle, nor if the knife would meet success. A nagging feeling told him it was better to just keep going. 

As if to confirm his suspension, another bullet grazed the footrest and bounced off, striking his boot. Keith gasped and for several eternal moments his heart stopped, unsure if he had been struck. Eventually he curled his toes, too cold and shaken to stop and do much else. No blood. No pain. He wasn’t hit. 

Mercy. 

More bullets were coming. 

Gritting his teeth, he squeezed the accelerator brakes, willing the hover-bike to go faster. 

_Come on, come on, come on!_

Stars were all the light that accompanied him. He sped too fast to get a chance to read any street signs, for there were minimal around here out in the middle of nowhere. Area 51, he assumed, was north of here. He had to turn eastbound at some point, maybe get on the 373, or somewhere parallel—he was going to punch General Iverson in the face so badly if he saw him there—another bullet flew past his right arm, and he instinctively dodged left— _Come on, come on—go faster!_

Suddenly there came a booming blast, and Keith realized what it was a moment too late. The shot from the bazooka struck his engine dead center, and the explosion sent him flying across the desert. Screaming, his arms shot up, protecting his head and neck as he came crashing back down, striking the earth with a terrible force that knocked the wind out of him. He rolled, striking hard ground again and again, crying out with each terrible punch against shoulder, back, stomach, hips. 

He eventually rolled to a stop on his stomach, trembling. For a few moments he didn’t move before reason returned to him. Searing pain shot through his ribs. He dragged in a deep breath and let his mind take in everything. 

The blast should have taken him out completely, but he was still whole. Still had his legs attached. No finger was missing, although his hand was terrible grazed and bruised, and one side was bleeding. A metallic taste met his tongue; his lips must have been busted up, but his nose had miraculously been spared. His ribs ached like hell, but he would be fine. Save for minor injuries, he had survived. 

The remains of his hoverbike lay some several yards away, the flames a bright red mountain as smoke filled the air, choking him. 

But he couldn’t afford to contemplate further on the state of his body, nor lament his old hoverbike. The engines of his enemies’ vehicles roared ever closer, and he could just picture the bazooka with the next missile aimed right at him. He pictured the other gunman with their guns all pointing out of the window, ready to shoot dead the one person who can save Shiro out of the Fort. 

Keith dug into his back pocket, clasping around the pocket knife. Such a flimsy weapon against a herd of roaring metal, but what other option did he have? 

Suddenly another blast lit the sky, but it wasn’t aimed for Keith. Keith gasped and dodged out of the way just as one of the enemy vehicles exploded. Shots rang through the night sky, and Keith threw his body flat on the ground, praying he could somehow evade the crossfires. 

Another vehicle was speeding fast towards him, and it was shooting back at the line of enemy vehicles. He didn’t know if it was foe or friend, and he didn’t wish to stick around long to find out. 

But what was he going to do? He had nowhere to go. His head spun around, trying to find something—anything—as a means to escape in the midst of commotion. A place to hide behind—his hover-bike was belching more fire and smoke, making it a terrible place to seek refuge. 

Sand was kicked into his mouth, and Keith spat it out, breathing heavily. 

The vehicle screeched its way towards him, its headlights blinding—was it about to hit him? Keith cried out and instinctively tried to get away. But in that moment the back door flew open, and arms grabbed for him before he could protest. With a grunt, he was thrust inside. 

The car veered to the side, and the door flew shut from the sudden turn in direction. 

“I got him!” 

The voice almost didn’t register as someone familiar, cold and shaken as Keith was, nor the two other voices that screamed along with him in panic and rage, as more rounds of gunfire were exchanged with their chasers, nor as Keith was pulled down towards the carseat and away from the windows to avoid getting struck. 

It wasn’t until the car, constantly changing directions in a mad fury, had finally lost their hot pursuers, that his heart rate began to settle. The driver was going at such a mad speed that Keith was half certain they were going to crash, but the tactic had put plenty of distance between themselves and the line of vehicles that Keith could finally breathe and remember the names of everyone around him. 

“Keith, are you all right?” Allura asked as she reloaded her gun at the front seat. 

“I guess so,” he said groggily and sat up straighter, embarrassed at having used Coran’s lap as a pillow of sorts. All around them on the car floor were boxes of ammunition. His heart froze at the thought of being struck by another missile from a bazooka. They would all explode in flame in an instant. 

“We were worried, man,” Lance said at the wheel. Keith’s mind twirled. What was Lance doing here—oh. 

_The figures moving fast in his and Shiro’s home while Coran held his hand, the injection setting fast into his arm._

So Lance was working with them the whole time. 

“When you didn’t respond to Pidge, we sensed something like this was about to happen. And when you _did_ finally respond—man, she was freaking out on the phone!”

“Pidge was in this too?” Keith said, then wondered if he should have been surprised at all. The way she had been enthusiastic to help him with anything relating to technology, the way she had fixed Shiro’s phone, had given him money, gadgets—some of which he now carried in his pockets. 

His heart ached; was their budding friendship all a ruse?

“Well, yeah. We all were in it.” 

Keith glanced out at the stars. “Hunk too?” 

“Yes,” Allura said. “We needed to put all the pieces in place. The diner and the clinic.” 

“Don’t worry,” Lance added. “We gave you freedom to roam anywhere else, but we still kept an eye on you. Hired others to also report to us if they saw anything unusual.”

Keith thought of Olia, Romelle, even Keilo. How many of them knew? 

“All of that for me?” 

“Because others were also keeping an eye on you from afar.”

Keith thought of the man with the long flaxen hair and shivered. 

“You and Hunk actually applied to work at Sal’s?” He leaned back, putting on a smirk and hoping it would come off as laid back. 

“Hunk did,” Coran said. “Lance and Pidge just played the roles of frequent visitors. But Hunk’s culinary skills are beyond this world, and besides, it was the closest diner near your residence. You would most likely stop by there.”

“Watch it, Lance!” 

Lance swerved around a lone tree in the middle of the road just in time, then glanced and laughed towards Allura sheepishly. “Aw, sorry there, love! Lost sight of the road, hahaha! You know me too well by now!” 

“Love?” Keith leaned forward. “I thought you and Hunk…” 

“Hunk?” Lance repeated the unfinished question before bursting into a fond smile. “Awww! Hunk’s my buddy! We were besties since the first grade! But no, I gave my fidelity to the pretty lady sitting right next to me!” He lifted his left hand to show the wedding ring. Keith swallowed thickly. This had to be all a dream. He must have fallen in the desert and hit his head real bad when his bike exploded. That was the only explanation. 

“But it worked in the end,” Allura said, keeping her eyes on the road. “You watching Hunk and Lance’s interact reminded you of your own relationship with Shiro.” 

Keith thought back to his earliest memories of walking around Goldlake, observing Lance and Hunk after their shift, the fluid affection, the way it had made him begin remembering Shiro in essence: his love, his arms around him, aching for an intimacy he couldn’t remember having once had… 

“So you _weren’t_ trying to make me forget Shiro?” 

“Heavens no,” Dr. Coran laughed. “We just had to be delicate about everything.” 

“We were hired by General Shirogane to take this mission in his stead shortly before his assassination,” Allura explained. 

“General Shiro—you mean General Hayato Shirogane?” 

“Known him for many years,” Dr. Coran said with a sad smile. “Welcome to the Coalition, by the way, as we’ve been referring ourselves. He was a great man. A shame that the Garrison has fallen afoul of the higher-ups of Area 51, and particularly the GALRA Unit. Er, do you know all that or…?” 

Keith nodded. “Mostly, yeah. I saw Shiro’s video. He explained some of it. He wants us to share it to the world…er, I left it back in the shack.” 

“Mmm, might be for the best,” Coran said with a quick gesture over his shoulder. “Your hoverbike took quite a beating.” 

Allura nodded. “We can easily extract the video file after this is over. His account will prove vital in our mission’s conclusion.”

“Mission,” Keith repeated in a whisper, observing them closely. Was he their main mission or… 

“There’s a lot more going on that you’re not seeing,” Coran said, answering Keith’s unspoken question. “A lot of peculiarities going on here, and I’m sorry to say your husband and yourself have fallen right in the middle of it. But we’ll get you out. Everyone’s been working two jobs. Like Allura and I have been working real hard in putting on a good front of therapists. Hope we did a good job, but we are thinking of retiring after tonight.” 

Keith nodded. He wasn’t sure if he really cared about any of this. He just wanted Shiro back. Worrying about saving the world from aliens invading through radio-waves can come later. 

He eyed the car radio and bit his lower lip, desperately wanting Shiro to appear among them. He wished he had dialed his mother beforehand—what was her phone number? Would Pidge have that intel on her after all this time? 

If others were watching him, was that the reason for the Coalition completely erasing his phone? Protecting him by wiping out all traces of his old self in case he was compromised? 

_My job. I couldn’t even remember my own damn occupation._ He sighed and shook his head, pressing his hands against his head. 

Meanwhile, little clues had been left behind, either intentional or not—the photo of the date in the Daltera Diner, Shiro’s phone with Saturn…why was Shiro’s phone even with him? 

“Why haven’t you told me anything all this time? Shiro could have been dead and I’d have never known, or—or worst, I’d have remembered him just after he died, and—and...” _I’d never have a chance to say goodbye._

Lance glanced at him from the rearview window. “It’s okay, man. We would have had a change of plans if something happened to Shiro. Promise. We had meetings about this.” 

Keith pounded a fist in his hand. “He was visiting me!” 

Silence rang through the car. 

Allura was leaning back, either watching the road or the roof of the car, Keith wasn’t sure. She tilted her head and met Lance’s gaze for a moment. 

“The Haggarium,” she said in a defeated voice. “Of course.”

“So you know about that? His ability?” 

“Told you, there’s a lot more going on than what you’re aware of,” Dr. Coran said. 

Keith sighed heavily. 

“Is that where we’re headed?” 

Keith pressed himself against the window. There wasn’t anything that could give him a semblance of indication of where they were. Yet the presence of the stars were calming. Keith smiled sadly. Was this why his husband loved the constellations and the universe so much? Their heavenly silence was a tranquil mercy, even just to observe. He had spent many hours just meditating on them, and in that moment Keith sort of envied him. 

“We’re not heading towards Area 51?” 

“No,” Allura said. “It’s pointless. The area is always heavily guarded, and besides, we are headed to The Fort.” 

Shiro. 

Keith’s throat suddenly grew a lump. 

They crossed a sign, and Keith gave a nod, squinting at the blurred signed. 

“The US-95,” Keith said under his breath. “Are we traveling west of Area 51?” 

“Indeed we are,” Dr. Coran replied. 

“Shiro is in there…” Keith frowned at the silence that followed. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but Allura was strangely stiff in her seat. “The Fort is northwest of here…are you leading me to him or…” 

“Keith..” Allura sighed heavily. “We’re afraid his situation is getting worse.”

“What do you mean?” Keith asked, leaning forward; he squeezed the shoulder of the car seat. “We were just speaking before I left the shack!” His face paled, remembering how Shiro had tried to warn him of always being seen and heard. The word _compromised_ flashed across his mind like a poisoned arrow. “N-no! He’s not—please tell me he’s all right!” 

Allura lowered her head. “I don’t know, Keith. Something happened earlier tonight down in the Haggarium, time stamped shortly before we picked you up. I’m just receiving report of it—”

“Oh God, how is Shiro—is he dead?” 

“Keith, I don’t know!” 

“Ask them! If someone on our side is in there, near Shiro, _please_ let them watch over him!”

“Keith, I’m afraid we can’t, our resources—” 

_“What are you doing having him die before your eyes?”_

“Keith!” 

Dr. Coran placed a hand on his trembling shoulder. 

“We understand how you feel,” he said gently. “Really, we do. We know how much you suffered. You wept the entire way to the new apartment when we took you back then. You wept for Shiro. I was sorry to erase your memories at the time, but I knew it would only be temporary, and for your protection. I saw with my own eyes how much you love him, and if I doubted Shiro’s survival in there I would not have fallen through with the plan. We do not take unnecessary risks. You alone are the reason Shiro still lives.” 

Oddly, Dr. Coran’s words were comforting. Keith took a couple deep breaths as Allura peered out the window. 

“Keith, I understand how much Shiro means to you. However, we cannot promise extraction at this time. There are other matters we have to tend to—” 

“Then let me in!” Keith begged. “You came all the way here to get me…for what?” 

“Keith, we keep telling you, there is much more at stake here—” Allura begged. “You are not of the Coali—”

“And what am I supposed to do out here while you’re completing your mission?” Keith demanded. “Just sit in the car alone and fret if my husband’s dead in there?” 

“Actually, Allura was thinking of me sitting here with you and—I dunno—keep an eye on you?” Lance said hesitantly, as if worried Keith was about to rip his head off next. 

“Fuck off!” Keith yelled, waving his arms and nearly smacking Coran in the face. “I’m fully capable of joining you on this mission—I was part of the Garrison training myself! I have something to save in the Fort as well—I have every reason to go in there myself! I’m here with you already, I’m part of the Coalition or this team or whatever it is! I don’t have any weapons with me, but I’ll do whatever you tell me!” 

The others exchanged looks. 

“Listen, you’ve been up in my business for the last two months,” Keith went on. “I don’t care about being up in yours. I just want to go back to my normal life. At least tell me my mother’s phone number! Whoever had taken my phone had wiped it completely clean! If Pidge has any information on my mother and where I can contact her, and—and if any contact information for the surviving Shirogane family, _please_ , let her forward it all to me! 

“I don’t care about some galactic or interdimensional war between you and Area 51 or the GALRA Unit! I just want my husband back! I want him back and I want us to reunite with our family, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get Shiro out of there and find ourselves a normal life again!” 

They drove on in the ringing silence. Even from here, Keith could see the tension in Allura’s shoulders. 

“He has a point,” Dr. Coran eventually said. “And he is with us. He may as well keep himself busy.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think Keith’s the kind to just sit around,” Lance said. “He’s done enough of that.” 

“All right, fine!” Allura snapped. She peered down into her lap, and that was when Keith finally got a visual of the tablet with her. 

His eyes shot back to the car radio. If only they could contact Shiro somehow, but didn’t she just say that things were getting worse? 

Dr. Coran traced his gaze towards the radio. 

“Think they’ll be playing Giorgio Moroder’s ‘Chase’ about now?” Dr. Coran asked in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

Keith pointedly ignored him. 

“How are you keeping up news about The Fort?” Keith asked. “How do you know Shiro’s situation is getting worse?” 

“By two means,” Allura said. “We have a group working undercover right in the facility. And…we also have an insider who is very close to Dr. Onerva.” 

The last few words came out tense, Keith noted. Confused, he turned towards Dr. Coran. 

“He owes us his alliance after we had…let us say, saved him from permanent imprisonment,” he said while waving his wrist hesitantly. 

“So…an ally?” Keith said. 

“Er, yeah…a friend,” Lance said. 

“A friend,” Dr. Coran agreed with a nod. 

“An old enemy,” Allura clarified tersely. “He is the son of General Arkon and Dr. Onerva, but he’s become estranged from them in the last few years. His work is mainly outside of the Fort, but he has agents working from within. We have a few undercover agents of our own, in different departments, and we keep one another in check.”

“He was almost late in replying to us this morning,” Dr. Coran said. “Seemed to have been busying around the state today.” 

Keith’s stomach turned as his mind instantly went back to the man at the Daltera Diner. 

“What sort of legal trouble did he get into?”

“It’s neither here nor there,” Dr. Coran said, waving the subject away with a hand. “But he has been instrumental in handing us intel ever since.” 

“I don’t trust him,” Allura said. 

“But he’s one of our only ears in there. Our own undercover agents aren’t given the same privileges his have.” 

_Was he following me? Why—_

“So he’s fully aware of his parents’ work?” Keith asked. 

“Oh, yes,” Dr. Coran said, and this time even he seemed nervous. Keith frowned. 

“Okay…so we go the Fort. Then what?” 

Allura’s fingers clenched on her lap. “I don’t like this idea. You’re not fully trained.” 

“I graduated from the Garrison!” 

“And spent the years since translating texts, hardly a fighter!” 

“You wouldn’t know that!” Keith fumed, ready to pound the seat she was sitting on. “I know how to fire a gun! I have been trained to climb mountains! I’ve just gone through hell piecing together a puzzle Shiro left me! I can move with stealth! I can do whatever you want!” 

“When we reach the Fort, you’ll meet up with Commander Hace,” Dr. Coran said quickly before Allura could protest. “His partner Dr. Laz and he have been closest stationed to where Shiro is being kept, but they are also there to take orders for other missions.” 

“Whatever General Olivan tells them, they will obey,” Allura said. “And you will follow those orders too, got that?” 

“Yes,” Keith said impatiently. He pressed himself against the window. How much longer until they reached The Fort? 

“Our men are known collectively as the Blade,” Allura continued. “In case you get lost, look for them. “This name differentiates them from Team NEZA. I would rather you didn’t have too much contact with them if you can avoid it.”

“What?” 

“Team NEZA, the agents who work with General Arkon’s son, Agent Lo—”

“Ah, guys, we got trouble!” Lance suddenly yelled, making everyone jump on high alert. 

Keith didn’t need to be in Lance’s place to see the line of cars reflected in his mirror. The light shone against the back of the window. 

“How did they find us?” Keith yelled. 

“Well, not like we’re just gonna stop by for ice cream after that battle and call it a night,” Dr. Coran said. “They just kept going!” 

“Everyone, grab your weapons!” Allura commanded. “Lance, go faster!” 

“Words I wish you’d say more in the—”

“LANCE!” 

“Fine, fine!” 

Keith grabbed one of the guns and worked in the magazine as if it was second nature, still angry at his skills having been questioned; Dr. Coran took note and nodded his head approvingly. He leaned against the backseat and watched the cars, glaring a hole through them with his eyes. 

They knew they were coming to the Fort. He wouldn’t let them stop him from getting Shiro—and Shiro! How was he doing right now? 

Keith’s heart ached terribly, but with a growl he settled the barrel of the gun against the headrest. How much further away were they from the Fort? 

“Brace yourselves!” Dr. Coran gave the word. Keith studied his motions. He had the gun pressed to the headrest as well, but ever so slightly he shifted it to towards the window, ready for the shot. Keith emulated his movement, desperate to prove himself. He had military training. Everyone who went to the Garrison knew how to load a gun, fire a few rounds, protect themselves.

A first round of gunfire, immediately followed by another answering round by Keith and Dr. Coran. Allura shot from her window, her body nearly half-way out of the window before slipping back in like it was nothing. 

Lights blared from the vehicles in the distance, and Keith gasped. 

“Well, they’ve brought tanks with them!” Dr. Coran announced. 

“Man, I really should be joining you all,” Lance said. “I’m your sharpshooter!” 

“Just keep driving, Lance!” Allura ordered. 

“Not like we can just park to the side and switch spots,” Dr. Coran grunted and took a well-aimed shot at an enemy. Keith watched them go down, trampled and lost in the dust of roaring tanks. He winced in brief sympathy before taking another shot of his own, striking someone between the eyes. 

“We got this, Lance,” Keith said, as his gaze quickly darted back to the car radio. 

_Hang in there, Shiro._

A bullet struck the side at Allura’s door, and Lance cussed, serving out of the way. Keith couldn’t see the point of him driving erratically here. Their entire tail end was swarmed with GALRA Unit officials from side to side, but he supposed the swift movement gave them some protection, making them a harder target. Lance drove fast, but not as fast as Keith himself knew he could take the car, but he understood the reason. 

One false move, and they could all die. Lance’s own love was right beside him, risking herself each time she popped from the side window or the sun roof. Meanwhile Lance’s attention was mostly focused on not losing control of the car. 

“I need something bigger,” Keith hissed after throwing out another empty magazine. He punched the backseat, biting down on his healing lip and ripping it open again. 

“Getting a little _too_ into the game are we?” Dr. Coran laughed. 

Keith grunted and punched the headrest again. It wasn’t that. Each passing second felt like an eternity, slowly ripping at his skin. The GALRA Unit were gaining on them, so close to preventing him from getting to Shiro, to his husband, to pulling him back to safety. 

“Easy there, trooper!” Dr. Coran grunted after firing a few more rounds and immediately dodging, nearly getting struck. 

Keith glared at the bright orange and grey tanks. 

“We need to destroy them all, right now, RIGHT NOW!” 

“I can’t hear them anymore!” Allura cried out, confusing Keith enough to distract him away from the window. She was readjusting the piece in her ear, then shaking her head, she tossed it out. She fiddled with the tablet, and a second later, Pidge’s voice boomed throughout the car. 

“Allura! Can you hear us?” 

“We thought we lost you for a moment!” That was Hunk’s voice. 

Keith had to blink for a moment to get used to hearing him. He knew Hunk was with the Coalition; they had discussed this already, but to just be hit with the realization that they were all working undercover all this time. 

“The connections are get—ing weaker the closer you—to the Fort!” Pidge’s voice crackled through the car. Keith’s heart skipped a few beats. Shiro.

“We have another call, hold on!” Allura announced to them. “Let me open a three-way call!” 

“What’s your status?” a deep voice shook the car, joining with the rumbling from the tanks. 

“Ah, Olivan has finally joined us!” Dr. Coran piped brightly, perhaps a little too brightly before his face contorted in rage as a bullet struck the hood of their car. He paid them back with another round, then immediately changed the magazine. 

Lance whined and swerved the car so swiftly that Keith had to grab tight, momentarily sure they were about to crash. 

“Sorry, sorry, thought we nearly went off a cliff!” Lance reported hastily before falling back into nervous silence. 

“What are you bloody doing here? Get us back on low ground!” Allura cried. Keith had to laugh. How did they end up near a cliff? 

“I’m trying to lose them, Allura!” Lance wept. “It’s like trying to pry off a dog that’s grabbed onto your favorite shirt!” 

“Get us back on lower ground—NOW! We might lose a few in the descent.” 

She turned back to the intercoms. “We’re barely holding on, as you can hear! How are your troops?” 

“We are stationed and ready for further instructions,” General Olivan said. “But you must make haste. There’s been too much activity around here lately. Dr. Onerva is certain to want to proceed to the next step.” 

Keith sucked in a breath. _No._

“How much more time do we have, General?” 

“They are preparing for the operation’s next stage at dawn.” 

_Focus!_ Keith told himself as his heart shot to his throat. _Don’t despair now!_

“Ah…General, there may be a slight change of plans,” Allura said. “I was thinking of bringing in Keith to the fight.” 

A bullet struck Keith’s window, rocking it dangerously, but it mercifully didn’t shatter. 

“So you’ve extracted him safely?” Pidge’s voice rang out. 

“Yes,” Keith called out. “I’m here, Pidge!” 

“Keith! I was so worried! Hunk and I will be giving you cover soon enough!”

“And I’m sending you the new plans,” Allura said, presumably to Olivan. “Keith will be entering the Fort and meeting up with Commander Hace.” 

“He will be fine! Trust me!” Dr. Coran interjected unnecessarily. “He’s doing great! Should have recruited him right from the beginning, but I’m afraid ol’ Hayato worried too much for the boy’s safety!” 

_Did he think I was too soft?_ Keith thought, one eye twitching. Growling, he reached for more ammo when he noticed the diminishing stock. Not that they had many to begin with. Cursing under his breath, he looked up and watched as the tanks drawled ever closer. 

_Damn damn damn damn damn_ — 

“Lance…”

 _How much farther away are we from the Fort?_ Keith wondered, his heart pounding. They were back on solid flat desert. He could hear the tires screeching with Lance giving it his all. But it wouldn’t be enough. Allura and Dr. Coran and Keith would have to keep on firing and hoping it would be enough. But how much longer could they hold on? With time running out, Shiro’s body being prepared for the next step—the battle raging on, not ceasing. 

“Allura, we’re running out of gas!” 

“What’s that smell?” Allura asked, suddenly sounding scared. 

“Er, that could be the engine?” Dr. Coran said. 

Keith’s heart skipped another beat— _I refuse to not see Shiro before the dawn comes!_ —when suddenly light blared on his left. Gasping, he jumped as something blinding bright was heading towards them at top speed, faster than an oncoming train. 

“ALLURA!” Keith cried out and threw his body over Dr. Coran, shielding him just as the car and oncoming bullet-train converged. 

Lance let out a mad scream, but it was not out of fright. Instead it was filled with a sort of mad laughter, and Keith understood why a moment later. The massive vehicle wasn’t meant to strike them. 

It was meant to take out the tanks. 

“All RIGHT!” Lance whooped. “Right in the nick of time!” 

Allura peeled herself from the dashboard, rubbing her chin. “How’s the car, Lance?” 

“A bit busted up,” Lance reported. “We should probably get out now before this baby blows. But that’s all right. We got The Volt with us now!” 

“Oof, let’s get out of here!” Dr. Coran said, tugging on Keith’s elbow. “Just go!” he added when Keith tried to grab for another gun. 

They filed out of the car, giving it a good distance, and looked up. 

The best way to The Volt was that it had to be the most massive RV Keith had ever seen in his life. Shaped like the head of a bullet-train, jet black with a singular streak of red, green, yellow, and blue around the front windows, accompanied by the silhouette of a mountain lion, it stood like a formidable foe, proud and mighty in the desert. Lights glowed from the sides, giving them a chance to look about them. Given its long length, it provided a natural shield from the GALRA Unit. Bullets could be heard striking the vehicle, but they bounced off the thick iron walls like they were made of nothing. 

Keith whistled under his breath, impressed. If only Shiro was seeing this. 

Hunk and Pidge were clamoring out to meet them. Pidge lunged right at Keith, her arms tight around him, taking him by surprise, but Keith was grateful for the contact. He embraced her back, realizing how much he needed some comfort amidst all the chaos since the morning. 

“Keith! Do you have the stuff I gave you way back?” Pidge asked him. 

“Yeah,” Keith said. “I had a feeling I should have collected them along with the rest of my stuff.” 

Pidge beamed. “Good! This will make things much easier.” She fished through her pockets and pulled out a small device, black with electric blue glowy lines that faintly hummed. 

“This will help you find the Fort,” she said. “You’ll meet up with Commander Hace. This device will take you straight to the rendezvous point.” 

“Right,” Keith said and turned to the others. A compartment located on the side of the Volt had been pulled open, revealing a whole arsenal of weapons, some or which Keith only vaguely recalled seeing blueprints of back at the Garrison. 

“What about you?” Keith asked. 

“We’re going to give you cover,” Allura said, grunting as she set up her weapon that sparked and glowed angrily. “We’re all heading to the Fort eventually, just not at this moment.”

“As you can see, we have a delicate situation to deal with,” Dr. Coran said with a wicked grin. Lance grabbed for the largest laser sniper Keith had ever seen and wordlessly made his way around the corner, letting out a war cry before an ear-splitting blast followed. Another mad laughter followed as a few tanks could be heard exploding. Keith had to duck, worried about being struck by some debris raining over The Volt. 

Keith moved to the weaponry before noting the uneasiness in Allura’s face. 

“I’m afraid you…”

“I’ll be detected with weapons on me in The Fort, won’t I?” he said bitterly. 

Allura nodded. “You will receive a gun when you meet up with Commander Hace. He will dispatch instructions to you then. General Olivan was made aware of the change in plans, but you must remain with Commander Hace at all times. The layout of The Fort is not anything you have ever encountered.” 

“Understood,” Keith said then turned to Hunk and Pidge. 

He gave them a nod. “All right. Be safe. Please.” 

“Same for you,” Hunk said. “It was an honor serving with you.” 

Smiling, Keith saluted them before heading out. The sandy ground rumbled under his boots, but he didn’t look back. The Volt glowed, standing proud like a lion in the desert, protecting his allies. The fight raged on. He was given leave to search for Shiro. This was his mission now. 

He broke into a run.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

“What took you so long?” Allura asked Pidge after Keith was well out of earshot.

“Right,” Pidge said, adjusting her glasses nervously. “After I began to suspect he was starting to hunt for Shiro, I realized our little informer had also been late in contacting us. By the time I managed to reach him, he was already in the same diner Keith was in. Of course I didn’t know that until later on after going through records and security camera recordings. And that’s not all. He was in the same hotel as Keith later that day. In the same suite Shiro had placed one of his clues.” 

Allura frowned. “What was Agent Lotor doing following Keith around?” 

Pidge bit her lower lip and turned towards Hunk. He was heavily involved in the battle. Thankfully with The Volt now with them, it had tipped the scales in their favor. 

“I’m not sure,” Pidge said. “We are still gathering intel on the matter. From what we have so far, it appeared Agent Lotor and NEZA had gotten wind of a foe, perhaps one of the GALRA Unit, picking up Keith’s intentions. He had been following Keith around and deduced what Keith was up to. Keith isn’t the only person who can read ancient texts, you know that. And this pursuer decided to take a shortcut to Caesar’s Palace. Find a way to get hold of the suite that Shiro had put on reserve months ago and wait for Keith to come in. He had set it up as a trap, probably hoping to kill Keith once he was alone up on the floor with him. But Agent Lotor and NEZA were there and sent the guy running.” 

“Well, that’s good,” Allura said hesitantly, though she was frowning. 

“But that isn’t all,” Pidge said. “Lance had previously bugged the room for this occasion, should Keith ever go through with hunting Shiro’s clues. Allura…Lotor and his agents tore the room apart. I don’t know what they were looking for. Hunk and I were worried they were searching for the same clue Shiro had placed for Keith.”

Allura’s eyebrows knitted in worry. The raging battle dimmed, tuning out for her as though it were the din of a restaurant. 

“Why would he need that? The clues are meaningless to everyone but Keith.”

Pidge shrugged. “No idea. Did he not want Keith to proceed? We can only guess. Hunk and I still have to to comb through the video footage to find out more.” 

“That is deeply disturbing,” Allura said. “But thank you for informing me, Pidge. We will need to look further into the matter.”

She gave the barrel of the laser gun a whirl then set it into motion. Without any more delay the two women joined the battle.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Keith slowed down as the battle behind him dwindled down into a whimper in the air, then to nothingness. He still turned back around, frowning and worried for his allies’—friends? He wondered, thinking of Pidge—safeties. But they said they would be joining him. And while it was five against a whole slew of army-men, the ginormous Volt was clearly giving them an edge in the battle.

He had nothing to feel guilty over. His mission ran parallel to theirs, but maybe it was not meant to overlap. 

Stopping for a moment to catch his breath, Keith sighed heavily, wishing they had at least told him how much further he had to go. The scenery was all the same before him, made worse by the fact that he was walking at night. 

Where the hell is The Fort? Shouldn’t he get any visual on a building, a light source, _anything_ , by now? 

He took out Pidge’s device, hoping it would pick up something, anything, but it continued to give the same faint hum as before. What was this thing supposed to do anyway? He hadn’t thought to ask her, and now he felt foolish. Somehow the device just made sense when she had placed it in his hand. 

He pocketed the device and resumed his track, stopping after what must have been another couple miles. He glanced over his shoulder. Couldn’t see the Volt nor the battle any more. What had happened? Were they fine? 

What if…he didn’t want to think on it, but what if they had survived and left for the Fort, having gone in another direction, all while he was left out stranded here? 

_No! I have to find Shiro!_

He pulled out his phone and muttered a tiny curse. No signal and at 1% power. Not good. 

At least the stars were a comfort. Each time heaviness sat in his chest, Keith looked up to them, studying their beautiful array of colors and imagined Shiro lost among them. How beautiful he always appeared whenever he spoke of the planets and the cosmos. Keith smiled. They should have traveled up there. Who knows the sort of adventures they would have gotten in outer space. 

A tug came on his side. He gave a start and clamped his hand over his hip, ready to bash in his fist over the intruder. But no one was there. The heavy tugging motion still continued. 

The device! He pulled out the tiny object, and it shook heavily in his hand before slipping between the cracks of his fingers, floating just a fraction above the ground below. It wobbled in the air just an inch away from the ground. 

_What sort of gravitational pull is this?_ Keith wondered before slowly coming to the realization. He was standing right on top of The Fort. 

“Gods,” he whispered, gasping. “Finally.” Shiro. 

But how to get in? A strange suspicion arose in him. Gripping the device, he drew the Fibonacci spiral over the sand. The device hummed a little louder, the blue light taking up the entire device. 

The ground before him shifted and turned. A pure black square appeared, the sand blown away from its center. It stood about one inch deeper and didn’t seem like anything like a door at first. But then it expanded, the black metal slipping away from right under Keith’s feet. 

Keith gasped and stood up, unsure what to do next. The black gate pulled back suddenly, and for a few moments Keith was floating in midair, looking down. Nothing he had ever learned from the Garrison or Shiro’s stories of his job had prepared Keith for this. This wasn’t an entrance like any other. 

He was looking right into a drop of thick electric blue, then suddenly he was sinking into the blue hole, and with that, everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Coran’s comment about the song [“Chase” by Giorgio Moroder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IrPWkIRWY9U) has some loose connections with the Lateralus album. In the original audio that was used in “Faaip De Oiad,” the radio station (with the late Art Bell as the host) lost transmission for a while during their talk with the alleged former Area 51 employee, and this song kicked up when their backup system booted up. You can check it out [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ee3bld4lTG0). :D 
> 
> Apparently Keith didn’t think that was a very funny joke. XD


	10. Eon Blue Apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Used a couple lines from numerous Tool songs, and one line from the Beatles "Across the Universe" but altered it a bit. Can you spot it? :)

For the longest time there was nothing. No sight, no sound, not even a breeze through his hair. The sense of existence came only like the faintest of dawn, like light emerging far over the horizon. Then came sensation, just an ever-rippling sense of calm drifting through his veins, over his skin, touching his tingled lips. A sense of existing, existing without knowledge or wisdom or thought, but how holy and wonderful it all felt. Godly and eternal. 

Then more feeling came slow before any thoughts returned to him. The sensation of weightlessness overwhelmed him into pure oblivion, such a tranquil and blissful state of being. After some time, he slowly became aware that he was floating upside down. 

Rather strange, he pondered, the words of his thoughts coming slow and as if echoed many miles away: had he not entered here feet first? But he was floating adrift, weightless and wondrous and free. And strange though it was, it felt perfectly natural. 

He could sleep forever. Drift forever like this. He was a god and a man, a divinity spiraling. 

A cool mist swept around him at the same time as something wrapped about himself. What was this feeling? Was something pouring over him? No, his limbs, his fingers, his toes…he was becoming more aware of the world around him. He was plunged into here. Something thick pressed against him from every inch: against his ears, eyes, chest, arms, stomach, legs. Yet the pressure was no means of alarm. Like being trapped in a thick aqueous solution, embracing him with an unconditional love he could only trace to one ancient source. 

_In the womb. I’m in my mother’s womb._

Keith smiled strangely. Sense of euphoria was too immense here for any sense of danger to trickle in. Endless bath, held up by nothingness, safest he has felt in the longest time. 

Then came color. Not as a love once sang, not black with white then red with yellow but blue. Just blue, a deep sky-blue, electric and natural at once. A dawn filling the canvas behind his closed eyes, setting his nerves even calmer, if it were possible. 

_Where am I?_

_Who was my love?_

He tried to open his eyes, but heaviness kept them from obeying. He was meant to relax here for just a little bit longer. 

_No. I…I have a mission. I have to be somewhere right now. I need—_

Arms wrapped about himself. He was the only one here, but he could summon anything and anyone to him, and his very core called upon his love. Surrounded by unlimited, undying love rippling through him like glimmering endless seas. 

A trickle of tear, cool against his cheek. 

_Shiro._

Though his eyes were still closed, he could almost see him clearly. The arms around him, this precious moment— _what came before it?_ —the familiar comfort of being lost in his arms. His smile as he had remembered greeting him, morning after morning, for nine—ten?—wondrous years. 

_Why get out of bed?_ spoke Shiro’s eyes, studying Keith. _Stay here. Stay with me._

_Recognize this as a holy gift and celebrate this chance to be alive and breathing._

Smiling, Keith reached out before something made him pause.

“Shiro…show me how they took you in.”

Frowning, Shiro held on to him, eyes wide. 

_Shiro…_

Darker blue filled his eyes again. The pressure grew around him, and a brief darkness closed in before opening to a bright electric blue glaring down on him. He was strapped to a thin metal table, rolled into a tight chamber, blue lights scanning his form. Shiro’s pounding heart thumped in Keith’s ears. He could feel Shiro’s labored breathing, whimpering, his shaking hands. 

_Shiro…_

His heart ached in sympathy, feeling the cold dread in his beloved. He searched for Shiro’s hand, trying to grab hold of him, it shook under his, and Keith squeezed, staring up at the glaring blue with him. 

_Shiro, I’m here._

_Keith, Keith! I’m here!_

_Don’t be afraid, Shiro. Hold on. Stay with me, Shiro. Stay inside._

_Keith?_

_I’m going to find you, Shiro._ Keith winced as a jolt of pain ran through him. It cruised through Shiro’s body, a current of powerful electrical impulses—what were they doing to him? His eyes scanned the device above him. Nothing like the blissful calm feeling like he was floating from before. They had strapped Shiro into some sort of thin tunnel, the device so close to his face that Keith’s heart began to hammer. It would have induced claustrophobia in anyone, even though Keith was certain Shiro had no such issues. He was so ready to travel out there, to space. Ready to explore anything. _Just hang in there, Shiro. I’m coming._

_Keith!_

_I promise._

The blue burst before Keith’s eyes, and he gasped as he instinctively searched for Shiro’s hand again, but Shiro wasn’t there. A blast of cold struck his lungs and he coughed and sputtered, suddenly alarmed. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

There was a whirring sound as the doors of a lift were opened, then slammed, followed by more noise. A tug, and Keith was lifted out of the compartment, hitting the hard ground. He rolled to his side, coughing heavily until the substance came out, weirdly thick yet not dense, and almost transparent. How much of this stuff had he swallowed on the way in here? He gasped upon further inspection, noting its physical similarity to aerogel, and hoped he had not taken any of that inside him. 

“It’s safe,” a voice behind him said. “Consumption of it will not kill you. I apologize we had to retrieve you through this apparatus, but it was the only way. GALRA eyes would not looking here.” 

Keith wiped his mouth and turned around. The man who addressed him was tall, broad-shouldered and muscular, with salt-and-pepper hair that turned upward like a the ears of a cat at the back of his head. 

Despite how shaken he was, by the time Keith was on his feet, he felt refreshed. Like all the weariness of his travels had simply washed away and he was made reborn from that descent down the endless blue. 

“Commander Hace, right?” Keith said, his lungs only vaguely aching from the not-aerogel, and gave his salute. “Reporting in.”


	11. And in my darkest moment, the moon tells me a secret

Commander Hace offered a returning salute. “An honor to work with you. Has Allura debriefed to you on our mission?” 

“Er, not everything,” Keith said truthfully. “I know about the radio-dimensional beings. I know that it’s why Shiro was taken prisoner here. But…they kept mentioning other things going on here, that there’s so much more than what I have seen. To be honest, we didn’t discuss much.”

“That’s understandable,” Commander Hace said. “You had virtually the entire remaining Garrison hot on your tails. Well, not most, but…” 

“Wait…were those Garrison officials?” Keith said as Commander Hace moved to another point in the circular room, switching on a light. The room was still dim, but bright enough that Keith could make out the size of the entranceway he had just come from. He quickly glanced back at the apparatus he had been pulled from. “General Iverson and all of them? They were the ones chasing us?” 

“Unfortunately…well, not General Iverson,” Commander Hace said. “I shouldn’t say _all_ of the Garrison. Some are working under command of General Arkon. I would imagine many—most—are not acting willingly; as Dr. Onerva’s research continued the Garrison found itself under the mercy of Area 51 and the GALRA Unit. It was a domino effect, slowly seeping its way out until it reached the Garrison.

“We were able to recruit some into our unit, but not many were willing to go against orders. Fear is a useful weapon used to control masses, as you well know. Many are taking orders from the GALRA Unit lest they are taken out for not acting in accordance with their superiors—or worse.” 

“So you’re telling me that we are powerless,” Keith said. “We have the entire military against us.” 

“Not everyone,” Commander Hace said, looking up from the screen. “Don’t lose faith in General Iverson. There may have been some disagreements between himself and Admiral Sanda, but he has been instrumental in keeping the balance between those still free, those forced to work with the Galra, and those who work with them willingly . Admiral Sanda herself…she eventually realized the danger, but it was too late. General Arkon himself had her murdered before us right in the Fort.” 

Keith gasped. “The Admiral had been assassinated?” 

“It is not public knowledge—right now the official story is that she had a heart attack. Anything substantial coming out will stir a worldwide panic. But we do hope that the truth will come out, in time.”

Keith folded his arms and glanced about himself. “After thinking up of the best way to twist the truth.” 

Commander Hace’s lips thinned. “It’s not so simple to just let the truth out. You understand the public cannot handle information such as this? We must dress this in a manner that can be understood by the masses without inducing panic.” 

“Yeah, I know, I’ve been through all the talks,” Keith said. “Warned not to go blabbering if I found some ancient curse that could awaken ancient prophets from the tombs. I thought my instructors were just kidding until I studied the texts myself.” 

As Commander Hace busied himself with the controls at the computer station, Keith walked around the apparatus he had come out of. It was a long tube, but with a small compartment from which he had come out of. 

“What is that thing?” 

“Birthing chamber—at least that’s what we nicknamed it” Commander Hace replied without looking up. “One of the many entrances to the Fort. We seldom use it. We had erected it with some alien tech we had uncovered years ago. Individuals used to enter it and undergo unusual psychological changes. Some called it a ‘spiritual journey’. We attempted to learn all we could about what changed with our subjects, but each individual’s experience was different. We couldn’t quantify the information, so it was abandoned in time.” 

“Hmm, interesting,” Keith thought, glancing back at it. A chill ran up one arm at the thought of the words “birthing chamber.” He had certainly felt like he was reborn. And yet…his soul had also momentarily bonded with Shiro’s. Had he seen his beloved’s past or present? And had others previously also bonded with another, such as a significant other? A soulmate, perhaps? 

He shook himself out of his reverie and all romantic thought of soulmates and soulbonds. He was here for only one thing, and Commander Hace was taking too long at the station. 

“I came here for Shiro,” Keith said, “and we don’t have much time left.” 

“I know why Allura sent you here,” Commander Hace said. “But we have a few tasks we must accomplish before we attempt to extract your husband.” 

“ _Attempt_ to extract?” Keith repeated. “No. He’s getting out of here. I’ll make sure of it.” 

Commander Hace glared at him from above the computer as if daring him to mess up this very important mission. “General Olivan will not hesitate to assassinate us both if we compromise the overall mission. And besides, Shiro is being kept in the Haggarium, the lowest level of this facility. We are still only located at the mouth near the top. Either you leave now and get nowhere, or join me and do it our way. Our mission will take us down every level. And then to Shiro.” 

Keith sighed. Either abort mission, run out the door and try to find Shiro himself in a place he had no knowledge of, or stick with Commander Hace, an undercover agent of The Fort and go through this maze. 

He spotted a set of earphones with a detachable microphone that was hooked up to a small communicator device, the sort that relied on radio waves. His heart skipped a beat as he took a few tentative steps towards it. 

“I suppose I have no other choice,” he said, reaching out for the headset. “I’ll have to join you, as Allura said.” 

Commander Hace stepped around and pushed the headset away, shoving a gun into Keith’s hand instead. 

“Glad we could come into an agreement,” he said with a grim smile.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Blue had become a color Shiro feared and despised.

He knew what it meant when it filled his vision behind his eyelids, brilliant and jewel-like. He had returned to the Fort, this time completely against his will.

The experience before the shack was mercifully without much incident. He had buried his phone right under the rug before standing still and resolved, ready to take them on. A few careful-chosen, guarded words, then Shiro was knocked unconscious. The next thing he knew, he was in the back of one of their vehicles, the shack growing tinier in the sideview mirror. No one had set it aflame; no sign of being broken in. The shack didn’t interest them, and what was the first sign of hope Shiro had experienced since hearing his father die. 

Somehow, he hoped his phone had gone unnoticed. Someone else may find it and trace it back to him. They had to. He somehow sensed someone would. 

After they had dragged him away from the shack, he was taken straight back to the Fort. No sense seeing General Iverson or hope to contact any of the officers he had frequently contacted before, Griffin and Leifsdóttir, or Razavi, Kinkade…the GALRA tentacles didn’t stop at Area 51 after all. 

The device Dr. Onerva had implanted in his arm seared with pain as if it recalled the last time he had been forced into the transdimensional plane. He had begun to flatline and wouldn’t have made it had Dr. Onerva not intervened swiftly. He never told Keith what had happened, and wouldn’t dare to. He had so many brushes with death— _death is the color blue_ —that his husband would never know, and Shiro didn’t wish to tell him. 

As the familiar patch loomed ahead, his heart sank. This time he may never return home. 

He was stripped down to his skin and forced onto a cold metal slab. Brilliant lights bore into his eyes. Someone sprayed his body with a thin jet of liquid that somehow cut like ice and burned like fire at the same time. Another dug needles into his veins. One in his left arm for normal saline administration; two in his right arm. One of them was for the administration of Dr. Onerva’s serum. It glowed like metallic grey and violet as it dripped from the IV line. 

Somewhere above him Dr. Onerva’s cold voice rang, reading his vitals, noting as his heart rate steadied into a slower pace. 

Shiro closed his eyes. _This was it._ He could panic, but the serum would keep his heart from beating too fast. It was how he had flatlined before. Not that he had any problems with his heart; he was fit and had a rather low normal resting heart rate, but panic and entrance into the transdimensional plane was enough to spike his vitals into a state unfit to maintain normal function. 

Just the thought alone, of being forced back into that God-forsaken dimension where no human should trespass, was already inducing a panic attack. He didn’t want to go back. Didn’t want to bore into those eyes— _Keith, I need you_ —didn’t want to be here—

Dr. Onerva gave the order, and her technicians picked up the metal slab and rolled him into the apparatus, visually similar to an MRI scanner, save that the diameter was smaller, heightening the claustrophobia. Bright blue light flashed directly into his eyes. He could almost see the creature from behind the other side, one of the unseen. 

_Keith._ He began to weep. What time was it now? Where was Keith right now? Was he safe? Were the agents his father had assigned with him by now? 

A tiny sound and sting against his arm notified him that more of the serum was administered, the hot liquid sweeping through his veins and bringing his spiking heart rate down. 

_Keith…_

“Now, now…” 

Dr. Onerva’s voice was cold in her false attempt to comfort him as she placed the gear over his face. One foot twitched, and his mind tried to focus on Keith, his smile, the way his large eyes shown and filled with the softest of warmth whenever he looked at him. Unlimited admiration, as though Shiro was his entire universe— _was I really worthy of this much of your love, Keith?_ —the pain that followed, realizing he may never see it again. 

Somewhere a few feet above him, a switch was turned on. 

He didn’t even get the chance to scream.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Static laughter and jingles drifted down the hall as Commander Hace and Keith pressed themselves against the metal walls. Light shown in a tiny cut out in the wall at the end of the hall.

“That would be Morvok,” Commander Hace explained. “Our main obstacle for us to the rest of the Fort.” 

Keith craned his neck to get a better look without getting caught by neither the camera nor not the man himself. The walls of the tiny security room was some ugly shade of yellow, lit by a singular light source overhead and the small television near the window; it was bright within, unlike the dull, monotonous greyish purple of the halls here. His eyes darted to the security cameras above them. Commander Hace had been neutralizing them using a device called Rover which Pidge had programed. A flick of the small device, and the red dot would die out, making for safe passage. 

But now to get past a living human was another matter. 

“I have been watching him in my time serving Dr. Onerva,” Commander Hace continued. “He would not be able outrun us, but he has a sharp eye and would be able to detect any slight change in scenery, even if his attention is on that screen. He’d alert the entire staff before we get a chance to strike.” 

“Does he know you?” Keith asked. 

“Yes,” Commander Hace said. “We all know every member of the Fort. Our numbers are small; that is how Dr. Onerva is able to keep track of all the ongoings here. He’ll become suspicious as to you being here. He isn’t an easy man to trick.” 

Keith considered his options for a few moments. “What did you do during your time here, again?” 

“Anything I was ordered,” Commander Hace said. “Even if it was fetching a drink for Morvok. I often worked the graveyard shift, and as Morvok couldn’t get out of his station, I’d offer to fetch him whatever he needed. That station is too small to have its own water dispenser or coffee maker; usually around now he’d ask for a cup. We did a lot of small talk. He enjoyed gossiping, seeing and hearing much that crossed these halls, so I found him a valuable source of intel.” 

At that, Keith smiled. “Ah.” 

He reached behind him and pulled out the bottle of zolpidem Dr. Coran had prescribed him. 

“Sleeping pills,” Keith explained. “Give Morvok enough to make him asleep, then we can get past him. Except…this is a low dose, and I don’t know how many we should—” 

Commander Hace grabbed the entire bottle. “A human can handle more than you realize. I’ll take it from here.” 

He disappeared the other way and reappeared moments later, cup in hand. He strolled up to the window as Keith remained behind the corner, watching while crotched, breath still. 

“Commander Hace!” Morvok greeted brightly that made Keith feel guilty. 

“Your usual, dear friend,” Commander Hace said and set the cup down in front of him. The two engaged in a little small talk, the game show momentarily forgotten. Keith kept his eyes on the cup, then glancing over his shoulder every now and again. 

“Yeah, well, I’m hoping to be transported back to Area 51 after tonight,” Morvok was saying as he reached for his cup. Keith squeezed his nails into his palm. 

“Really, now?”

“Yes. There’s too much politics I don’t agree with here. At least in the other place it’s just stabbing aliens and other unidentified creatures with needles, you know. Don’t care much for them. Poking humans, on the other hand…”

Keith’s eyes darted towards the hall to make certain no one was coming near. As the conversation drifted down, Keith’s impatience and sense of panic increased. How long until the medication took in effect? What if someone happened by before Keith got a chance to enter into the deeper levels of the Fort? 

“Keith?” 

Keith shot to his feet the moment he heard his name. Commander Hace nodded his head towards the security guard’s room, ushering him. Morvok’s snores could be heard as he neared. 

“Thankfully he downed the entire thing,” Commander Hace said as Keith entered, “and that he had apparently never taken this medication before, or he would have built tolerance. Knocked him out in less than five minutes.”

Keith stilled. The pharmacist had told him it could take up to thirty minutes so administration right before bedtime was advisable. He studied the sleeping Morvok on his desk. “Did you give him everything in the bottle?” 

“Yes.” 

“He’ll be okay, won’t he?” 

Despite having exchanged fire out in the desert, the thought of having blood on his hands troubled him, especially Morvok. Morvok wasn’t the one who was planning on cutting up Shiro. He wanted to leave the Fort _because_ of Shiro. If Keith was to dirty up his own hands, General Arkon and Dr. Onerva would get the worst of it. 

Commander Hace regarded him. “He’s only sleeping. You have nothing to worry about.” 

He walked around Morvok and set to contacting someone. Keith studied around the room, taking note of the television and deciding to lower the volume, just to minimize attracting attention towards their location. As he turned the knob, his eyes fell on the shelves under the television set. Towards the bottom, tucked under some papers, was a headset just like the one in the antechamber with the birthing apparatus. 

“Keith, come on,” Commander Hace drew him out of his reverie. “Dr. Laz is expecting us. We must hurry.” 

Keith quickly pocketed the headset and followed.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Dr. U. Laz was Commander T. Commander Hace’s husband. Keith learned of this fact as they made their way down another set of halls, watching for any passing officers along the way.

He wanted to ask why neither had chosen to not adopt the other’s surname, but then realized with their line of work, it was best to go undercover as individuals with no ties to one another. 

And indeed, working as undercover for years had set a sort of professional coldness between them. Dr. Laz greeted them with the merest of waves before returning to the document he had been poring through. Commander Hace shut the door behind them, and the door whirled as it sealed shut, ensuring them all the safety as they docked inside Dr. Laz’s office for however long they needed. 

_Hopefully not long_ , Keith thought, growing impatient again. _We’re losing time!_

“This is the Keith you spoke of?” he said as Commander Hace drew near him. 

“Yes,” Keith said, setting in front of him. “I’m here because—”

“I understand why you are here,” Dr. Laz said. “General Olivan has already debriefed me.” Sighing, he removed his glasses. Save for a thin line of hair running down the center of his head, he was bald. He regarded Keith with such pity and grief that Keith hated him for whatever he was about to say. 

“I was appointed by Dr. Onerva to be in the operating room,” Dr. Laz said. “I have been preparing your husband for the morning. Keith, I’m sorry, but it is best you do not remain optimistic.” 

Keith squeezed his hand, then drew in a deep breath, held it, before releasing it slowly. 

“I will not allow that,” Keith said calmly. “I’ve gone through so much already. I will get Shiro out of there.” 

Commander Hace and Dr. Laz glanced at one another in pity. 

“You haven’t…seen him…” Laz said in a low voice. 

“He’s come to me in visions,” Keith said. 

“A projected vision of himself, perhaps,” Dr. Laz said. “But Shiro himself does not know how he appears now, what was done to his body. Keith, I am not telling you this to dissuade you or to tell you to give up hope. I just want you to know there is little chance of saving him with his current condition.” 

He turned back to Commander Hace. “I have the intel to pass along to General Olivan. Are you ready?” 

They moved on to contacting General Olivan, ignoring Keith. 

That was fine by him. The office was large enough that he could tuck away into a corner and not be overheard. While the two men busied themselves with updating the general on their status, Keith pulled out the headset and placed it over his ears. He pulled out the small radio transmitter and switched it on, tuning it around a few times, listened to the static, found a couple radio stations, more static, then…okay…this was a good spot. Not connected to anyone’s device. Just…radio signal on. 

His heart thumped heavily against his chest, terrified for the first time in years; what if one of the radio-dimensional creatures would find him instead, he found himself wondering. What if Shiro never responded? 

“Shiro,” he whispered into the mic, hoping it would somehow reach it. “Shiro…it’s me. It’s Keith. I’m here. You’re safe.” 

He waited with bated breath. 

He just wanted to see Shiro again, know he would be all right. He was so distressed the last time they had spoken. _In fairness, I was pissed. I’m so sorry, Shiro. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please respond._

He repeated his message. “Shiro—”

_“Keith.”_

Keith gasped softly. The soft violet glow wasn’t anywhere around him. Shiro didn’t manifest, but he had heard him. 

_“Keith.”_

Smiling, tearing up, Keith pressed the headphones against his ears. 

“Shiro, it’s okay, I’m here,” Keith said softly into the mic. 

_“I’m losing time…”_

“I’m here, Shiro. It’s going to be okay.” 

_“I’m scared, Keith…”_

Keith squeezed his eyes shut for a second. “Stay with me, Shiro. I’m coming over, okay? I’ll get you out of here.”

_“Keith…I said not to look for me…”_

Keith wrapped one arm around his knees. “And leave you here? I’ll never do that. We’ll get the truth out there. You’ll get out of here. We’ll get back to a normal life.” 

_“Keith…we might not make it home.”_

“We will, Shiro!” 

_“Keith…”_

Keith studied the books on the shelf with watery eyes. “And if we don’t, if this all ends in fire, then I’d rather burn with you,” Keith said, barely above a whisper. He squeezed the headphones and took a deep, shuddering, steading breaths. _It’s going to be okay! I won’t let anything happen to him! I’ve come too far to just fail now!_

“I love you, Shiro.” 

_“Keith…I’m dying…”_

He threw his head down, hiccuping and unable to stop the tears from starting. Unable to respond back to his husband, his voice so weak and scared. His shoulders shook. 

A shadow loomed over him, and he peered up. Dr. Laz was frowning. 

“Where did you get that?” Commander Hace demanded somewhere behind Dr. Laz. His husband raised his hand, then went to sit across from Keith, allowing him enough time to wipe away the tears. He pulled the headset down around his neck but otherwise didn’t remove it completely. 

“We have just completed our debriefing with General Olivan,” Dr. Laz said. “He demands your participation in this mission, in exchange in us aiding you in extracting your husband from the Haggarium. The artifacts we seek are four eggs, called Sincline eggs, which Dr. Onerva had successfully retrieved from the transdimensional realm. She used Shiro as vessel in gaining them. We fear what Area 51 and the GALRA Unit may gain in continued possession of these eggs, and our mission is to steal the eggs before the research goes any further.

“We know by now that there are a total of four eggs, and they are hidden at numerous levels of the Fort. Each are heavily guarded. We need them for our report to the rest of the world.” 

Keith listened, sick at the idea of Shiro being used as a vessel in extracting artifacts from another realm. He didn’t want to think in what manner this was done and wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

“Yeah…” Keith eventually said. “I will help. I already said that. I just…I just want to get to Shiro. I’m worried we might be too late.” 

Dr. Laz nodded but didn’t elaborate further.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

The Fort was divided into five wings, one of them being the abandoned antechamber Keith had come from. The other four contained the eggs, one in each wing, and each on a different level. The process of just getting to the first one was enough to make Keith think they would be at this until the morning.

Dr. Onerva had treated them as though they were more precious than oil. Paranoid about anyone other than herself or an authorized personnel getting to them, she had hid each away in a secure chamber. Finding each involved working out a puzzle, sending them through a maze with high security, extremely difficult even during the night hours. 

_“Keith…I am here,”_ Shiro’s voice would occasionally flit into his ears, faint and weak, but enough to inform him that Shiro was still hanging on. Keith used it as a fire to fuel him on the mission. If accessing a chamber required a code, his mind lit, sharper than ever. General Olivan had wished to utilize Keith for his ability, and as it turned out, he would be instrumental in helping them retrieve the eggs. Keith had hoped this would be karma in him getting Shiro back. 

The first Sincline egg they retrieved was nothing that Keith anticipated. Glossy black and shimmery iridescent in color was the shell, and heavy like a giant jewel. 

_“Carrying that inside me nearly broke my spine,”_ came Shiro’s voice weakly. 

Keith winced and glanced over his shoulder, disappointed that Shiro wasn’t there. Just to see him one more time… “You’re seeing this?” 

_“The Sincline eggs? Yes…”_

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

It wasn’t like in the horror films or any twisted tales that Shiro used to amuse himself with when he was younger. Nothing like any story of alien eggs being laid inside a human. It was easy to get thrills from the movies and trashy horror short stories. So easy to laugh at fiction. But as it happened to him, it only filled him with horror and his mind had gone blank, unable to find anything to distract him from the sheer horror of being used as a vessel in this manner.

Black smoke, heavy like ink had filled into his lungs from the creature as Shiro tried to run away from it. When he was brought back into his proper dimension, his body ached, then seared with indescribable agony. The inky-cloud grew and thickened in his body till he couldn’t breath. He coughed and tried to vomit it out only to feel it choke him. It trickled down into his belly. 

He had screamed and begged for the doctor to save him before his heart had spiked and everything turned white. 

Dr. Onerva’s voice rang out excitedly as she opened up his stomach wide to extract the strange egg, large enough to be held by two hands. The pressure in the pit of his belly had felt as though a ton of bricks had settled inside it, but it sat in her hands like a prized jewel. 

To Shiro’s shock, no scar marked the site of incision, despite having woken up in the middle of the operation and knowing none of this was a figment of his imagination. It couldn’t have been. The doctor excitedly spoke of the incident many times after. 

But there was no scar. He could hide this from Keith. He could try to forget this freakish incident, pass it off as some mad dream influenced by the mad doctor’s ravings. 

At least until he went through the nightmare again three more times.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Keith said after Shiro was done. He was working out the details in retrieving the fourth and final Sincline egg. Ancient languages. Wonderful. Like it was fate for him to be here. And while it was also Commander Hace’s speciality, Keith was clearly the more skilled at the task. Commander Hace was more of a warrior than a puzzle-solver.

 _“I didn’t want to alarm you.”_

Keith smiled sadly. “I would have told you to leave, right?” 

_“I wanted to. But I couldn’t. I was scared. I needed to think of a way to get out without hurting you. But now I’ve doomed us.”_

“Impossible,” Keith said. “This is just a bad patch for both of us. This exact time next year we will be spending it under the covers in bed, lazy and oblivious to the world.” 

_“You’re very sure of this.”_

Keith smiled. “I will make sure this happens. You spoke to me once of the stars aligning. You also spoke to me that our fates aren’t ever set in stone. No matter what our fates may be, we can always contest against them.”

He heard the faintest chuckle against his ear, and a little thrill went up his spine. Oh, to feel it as he had long ago. _“You always faced Saturn head-on. General Iverson never knew what to do with you.”_

Keith smiled. “I wouldn’t have been able to graduate if it weren’t for you. Thank you, Shiro.” 

He stood up and waved to Commander Hace. “Think I cracked the code for the next one!” 

Commander Hace uttered a quick thank you as he inputted the code into the compartment. Keith stood back, listening intently into the headphones for anything from Shiro, even if it was his breathing. He thought he could hear him humming to himself. 

_“And in my darkest moment, fetal and weeping, the moon tells me a secret.”_

Keith smiled. _You and your planets, Shiro._

_“Its source is bright and endless. She resuscitates the hopeless. Without her, we are lifeless satellites drifting.”_

Keith chuckled softly. “That’s beautiful, Shiro. Did you make that up or was that from a song?” 

The gunshot rocked the chamber. Dr. Laz cried out for them to duck, and everyone drew out their guns as more gunfire filled the chamber. Four people in black suits poured in. 

“NEZA,” Commander Hace hissed towards Keith. “Working under Agent Lotor! Why—” He kept the Sincline egg close to himself and fired at them. Keith pressed himself against the wall and exchanged rounds of fire, his eyes aiming for one before averting to the next. Agents NEZA were all women, he realized, though they moved so fast he could barely make out their faces. 

A sick feeling rose in his stomach, thinking of the hotel, the couple in the shower while he searched for Shiro’s clue. The voices that were in the hotel room, thrashing it before leaving. Were they also women? He couldn’t remember. Now wasn’t the time to wrack his brain. 

One of them had come against him, taking him completely unawares. Her face flashed into view, and Keith’s throat went dry before an old pain flashed, his throat feeling as though it was crushed against the mattress—he paled at the sheer size of the woman hurling through them, unable to move, but suddenly she was slammed against the wall. Keith cried out in surprise. 

“Hurry!” a woman’s voice cried out, grabbing for him. She wasn’t one of the agents, and Dr. Laz was already running towards the direction she was pointing. Keith took her hand and followed, his feet pounding as fast as his heart. Commander Hace was hot on their heels, but he stayed back, being the tallest and strongest. 

The agents poured out into the hall, gaining speed at an impossible rate. 

“I’m Commander Ilun,” the woman next to Keith said, tossing each of them a device that turned into a plasma shield when activated. “General Olivan has sent me to join you midway. I was keeping eye for any sign of danger when I noticed they had spotted you three back at Level Delta. They’ve been following you, but they are not the only enemies you must worry about. Commander Sendak had dispersed his crew throughout the Fort.” 

“Why are our allies attacking?” Dr. Laz huffed. “Have they joined forces with General Arkon?” 

“I do not know,” Ilun said. 

_We have to get out of here_ , Keith thought. He thought of what else he had at his disposal, and his mind pulled up the image of the plastic film Pidge had given him. 

“Er—if we have a second to spare,” Keith said. “Do you know about the Pepper’s Ghost trick?”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Their targets had disappeared into the dark, and for long stretches of time there was nothing, no sign of any enemy agent. Agent A was the first to stop and throw her arm out, a command for Agents N, Z, and E to halt.

“Where do you suppose they went?” Agent Z asked gruffly. “I want a chance to smash the big one’s head in! Or finish off that little one’s throat! I had a lot of pleasure strangling him the last time I saw him!” 

“We’re not here to _kill_ them, remember, Z?” Agent E said, although she sounded disappointed. 

Agent A scanned the vicinity before gasping. 

The two commanders, the doctor, and the other were approaching them. 

Instinctively they drew out their guns and shot at them, but the four went up in smoke. A second later, and they saw them running, and they made a mad dash after them. 

“Hold it!” Agent A cried out. Growling, she searched the dark until her hand came against something hard. 

“A theater trick!” Agent E cried out. “Who would have—”

“Grr, it’s that small one with them!” Agent Z hissed. “We should have murdered him when we had the chance back in the hotel!” 

“No, you know Lotor’s orders,” Agent A said. “Do not kill. We were only shooting at them per Lotor’s orders. He wants us to break the ties. Lose their trust. It was all part of the plan. 

“You know where they’re going next. They got all the Sincline eggs, now they’re heading for the next step. Their path will be filled with nothing but Sendak’s officers. Now we have to make sure they get out of there alive.” She glanced to Agent N and grabbed her hand, tapping into her palm to give the order. 

“Come on,” she told the others.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Matt’s Pepper Ghost trick had gained them only enough time to get away. Commander Ilun led the way, eventually ushering them into a chamber and locking the door behind them, sealing it shut.

“Okay, we got all of the eggs, now what?” Keith asked. 

“We need to get them out of the Fort safely,” Commander Ilun said. “I can do that, but it’s not going to be easy with Sendak and his buddies patrolling the place.” 

A sick feeling coiled in Keith’s belly. “They wouldn’t rouse Dr. Onerva over this, would they?” 

“You’re worried they’ll speed up the process over Shiro,” Commander Ilun said, but there wasn’t any accusation in her voice, only sadness. “If there’s any comfort to you…the preparations they had to do will ensure he won’t be ready until the morning.” 

Keith nodded. How much time has passed since he had left the shack? Since he had come here? All sense of time had come to a stand still. Although his bones ached from everything he had gone through since setting out for the clue-hunt, he didn’t feel sleepy at all. Not until Shiro was safe and alive and back in his arms. 

“I’m going to contact General Olivan for an extraction,” Commander Hace said. “We’ll head down to help Keith with Shiro. Can you do this alone, Ilun?” 

She nodded. “The eggs aren’t too heavy.” 

Keith reached for his earpiece as Commander Hace contacted the general. “Shiro? We’re coming. Shiro? Can you hear—” 

Suddenly the door of their chamber blasted wide open. Commander Ilun pulled him away before the blast took him. Dr. Laz guarded Commander Hace with his body. 

“What the hell—”

“Sendak!” Ilun cried out. “Run, run!” 

They dispersed out of the room without another moment to lose. Guns drawn, they attacked just as the first waves of gunfire rained on them, their plasma shields protecting them just barely enough. Commander Hace cried out, and Keith’s eyes widened; he was struck, a bullet grazing his shoulder. 

“I’ll be fine!” he said hastily. “Run!” 

The number behind them were too many to count. Outnumbered, they made a mad dash, not realizing they were crossing alarms that got set off, alerting more officers. 

“No, no, no—” Dr. Laz hissed. 

“Gnov! Protok! Ladnok!” Commander Sendak’s voice thundered behind them. “Fire!” 

Keith nearly tripped, slamming against the wall. The impact pulled on his shoulder, nearly enough to dislocate it. Thankfully, it hadn’t; he could still move his arm, but the brief delay was enough to incapacitate him from joining in the fight. 

_We’re outnumbered_ , he thought, looking back. _This is impossible!_

A loud hiss issued across the hall, and suddenly there was a sharp cry behind them. Keith turned back around in time to see one of the GALRA officers go down, but it wasn’t from a bullet. A creature had lunged over him. 

“Protok!” Commander Sendak roared. “Throk! Trugg! Fire!” 

Three more of those creatures came down on them, sharp teeth tearing into flesh, a few limbs torn and tossed far enough that it landed in front of them. Dr. Laz gasped then urged them to keep going. 

_What is that? Is that what Shiro has been trying to keep out of our dimension?_ Keith wanted to ask but the questions was stuck in his throat. He looked over his shoulder one more time, but none of the creatures were making their way to them. 

“This way!” Commander Ilun urged as she rounded a corner. A wide central room loomed overhead. Keith ran into a chamber, pressed a code, and all the doors sealed shut. 

She threw her body against it and drew heavy breath. Keith gripped onto a nearby table. 

“What the hell was that? Was that the thing Dr. Onerva was bringing over?” he said. 

“I…I don’t know,” Commander Ilun said truthfully. “From what we knew, none of the radio-dimensional beings made it here yet.” 

Keith glanced at the eggs in their satchel. “What if these have hatched?” 

“Dunno. Don’t think they’re really eggs in the way we think of them.” 

Dr. Laz shook his head as a means of agreement. “They share nothing of our biology, although we may simply be wrong in assuming these are not their eggs. We haven’t had much luck with them. But with evidence of something existing from the other realm, we have a case to present to the world.” 

He walked over to Commander Hace. “Let me see your shoulder, love.” 

Keith in spite of himself, smiled. So there was still some affection there inside the doctor.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

The halls gleaned with blood, guts, and sinew. Far away from the central station, the four creatures converged into a chamber. After ensuring that none of the surviving GALRA Unit officers were tracking them, they shifted back to their human forms.

Agent A made the call to Lotor. 

“We’ve ensured the safety of the team,” Agent A explained. “You still want them to leave with the evidence?”

“Yes,” Agent Lotor’s smooth voice answered. “It isn’t like the actual Sincline eggs are in their possession. They will only have duplicates for their little news reveal to the world.

“Meanwhile, you have everything?” 

“Everything you’ve requested, sir,” Agent A said. “We have shown ourselves as we shot at them. We have the Sincline eggs.” 

She could hear the chuckle deep inside his throat. “Good.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

“Shiro?” Keith frowned and adjusted the mic, hoping it was simply a matter of faulty equipment. He tried again, but Shiro never responded. He listened intently for any sign of life, for his breathing, but nothing came.

“Guys…” he looked up and immediately grew quiet. The others were busy with gathering other intel: Commander Ilun was making preparations to leave them with the Sincline eggs. Commander Hace and Dr. Laz were speaking with General Olivan by means of tablet while Dr. Laz continued to work on a computer, drawing up more intel from the central system. Information that could divulge more on what has been done to Shiro all this time. Keith’s stomach churned. 

Saving a human life was secondary to reveal the entire world of the GALRA Unit’s actions. 

He gripped the headphones, hoping the worst had not come to pass. 

“He’s here,” Commander Hace said and ran to the door, typing in a code. The door slid open, and a tall grim-faced man stepped in, greeting Commander Hace with a curt nod.

“General Olivan.” The others gave their salute. Keith also gave his. 

“Keith,” General Olivan said, regarding him. “I have heard of your invaluable help in retrieving the Sincline eggs from the levels. I must congratulate you on a job well done. 

“Thank you, sir,” Keith said, hesitating on the next thing he wanted to say. “What of the whereabouts of—”

“I know what you’re going to ask me,” General Olivan said. “Unfortunately, Dr. Onerva has been spotted in the vicinity. The chase with the late Commander Sendak has triggered an alarm. She will want to check on her subject. And the moment of Shiro’s death is approaching.” 

_No._ Keith’s legs were fast turning to jelly. Dawn was coming, and he was going to lose Shiro forever. He turned to everyone in the room for any ounce of sympathy, but they were only regarding General Olivan for his next order. 

“Commander Ilun,” he addressed. “Agents Vrik and Regris and awaiting for you at the rendezvous point on the east wing exit. We will have to go to the lowest level to get to the exist route. That is the only way you can get to the top and out to safety, if we can evade Dr. Onerva and whatever she sends our way.” 

Commander Ilun nodded.

He helped them recharge their weapons, then they set out, Keith with the lowest morale. His heart ached painful with each step. Dawn was breaking. The mad woman was preparing his husband for the slaughter. And none of the fellow Garrison crew, the people Shiro had worked alongside for years, thought of saving him. 

General Olivan led them down the hall and into the elevator, down further and further into the belly of the Fort. 

As they neared the lowest level, Keith’s heart skipped a beat. Shiro was kept here. This was the Haggarium. 

But which wing was he located in? 

General Olivan regarded them solemnly before opening the door of the lift, and Keith understood why moments later. 

The entire level had been rigged with bright violet rays. Anything that got touched by it would get instantly killed. 

They dodged and pointed their guns up, shooting down any source of the rays. General Olivan had darted in and out of sight, looking more and more distraught. 

“We can turn this all off in the central control room, but it’s located in the far end,” Commander Hace grunted as they were pressed against the side of a wall. “And you have Dr. Onerva to deal with. She’s around here. And Commander Ilun needs to get to the rendezvous point.” 

General Olivan studied the rays. “She isn’t where I had thought she’d be. I’ll hunt down Dr. Onerva. She seems to have…disappeared. She’d be here right now…Commander Hace, can you reach the control room? Otherwise there is little we can do.” 

“I will try, General,” Commander Hace said and was off. 

“I can shoot these a little at a time,” Commander Ilun said, “but with more of us here, the sensors are picking more of us up and setting off more frequently. It makes shooting a lot harder.” 

General Olivan nodded and disappeared once more. Keith scooted over just as another ray nearly seared his left arm off. 

A door of some kind lay on his right. Dr. Laz was pressed against the wall on the other side of the door. He kept glancing at it in contemplation before reaching out and tinkering with the handle. Keith frowned in confusion. General Olivan had come from there and reported that Dr. Onerva wasn’t there, that she would be here—

Keith’s face blanched. The rays. They were trying to kill anyone who would get too close to her best kept weapon. 

As if to confirm his suspicion, Dr. Laz slipped inside, the rays not touching him at all. He was sure there would be a sudden bolt on the doorframe, but nothing of the sort happened. Commander Ilun had left, trying her best to shoot at the rays one by one while Commander Hace attempted to dismantle everything at once at the central control room. Keith just stood there, trying not to get struck.

A few moments later, Dr. Laz appeared at the door, regarding Keith with a somber look. 

“You may want to see this, Keith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lines sung by Shiro from Tool's "Reflection".


	12. Be patient (wait it out)

The Haggrium was a wide circular chamber, and in the center was a wide station with three computers, some other gadgets to read the progress for the patient, and the metal table on which lay Shiro. 

Keith sucked in his breath the moment he saw him: his beloved, his husband, the man he had known and loved for half his life. Nothing prepared him for this. Commander Hace was correct in his guess, loath as Keith was to admit it. Shiro must have been projecting an old image of himself to Keith all this time: his body was nothing like Keith remembered him from the last time he had seen him. 

The most notable change were how thing his legs had become from the lack of use. Two months of being strapped, his spirit forced to enter other dimensions, the mad doctor had no plans of having Shiro roam around. Signs of deterioration marred his once strong legs. 

One of his arms had been taken. Tubes connected to both, but while saline and other liquids, perhaps medication, went into his left, the tubes connecting to his bionic hand were definitely more electronic in nature, connecting him to the massive machine that curled over his head and connected to the computers. 

That wasn’t the end of it. Shiro’s face was completely obscured by some sort of square flat mask, a device wide enough that it cover his head and shoulders. It appeared to press against him, held by screws. 

“Shiro?” Keith wanted to scream, horrified, but only a tiny strained sound slipped out. 

Dr. Laz ushered him towards the head. 

“Can he breathe?” Keith demanded. “This...you allowed this?” 

“What choice did we have? To refuse meant death.” Dr. Laz said. “This was part of the procedure. It helps to link the vessel’s mind to the other realm.” 

“He has a name,” Keith hissed. “And he has a full life outside of these walls.” 

“I am aware of that, Keith, I am merely explaining to you—”

“How do you take this off?” 

He didn’t want to accidentally splice Shiro’s face off at the last moment. Pounding could be heard against the Haggarium, either sounds from the machines or from the battle. It came as if miles away, muffled. 

Dr. Laz first worked on the computer, extracting last bits of data before helping Keith with the dismantling. He unscrewed each corner and Keith gingerly lifted the mask. The mask had left pressure most on Shiro over the bridge of his nose, enough that Keith could see scarring under the new broken skin. Hissing back a back in sympathy, he wiped the beads of blood, the cupped Shiro’s greyish-pale face. Dr. Laz set to work on removing the IV lines. 

“Shiro?” Keith spoke softly as he cradled Shiro into his arms. “Can you hear me? I’m right beside you. I’m right here. You have nothing to fear.” 

After what seemed like an eternity, far too long that Keith was beginning to lose hope, Shiro slowly opened his eyes. He shifted weakly in Keith’s arms. 

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice came barely a whisper, weak and broken, nothing like the spirit Keith had spoken with all this time. Keith brought one hand to cup this cheek, then leaning closer noticed how shallow Shiro’s breathing was. 

“I’m here, Shiro,” Keith said. “You’re getting out of here, all right? It’s going to be okay.” 

“Keith…I…”

“It’s okay, Shiro…”

“His vitals aren’t looking good,” Dr. Laz announced from somewhere behind Keith. At that same moment there was a thunderous scream far off beyond the Haggarium. The doctor’s eyes widened, and he glanced behind his shoulder, as if he could see through it and parse if it was his own husband who had screamed. 

Keith squeezed his eyes shut. 

“We’ll get him out,” Keith said. 

Shiro rasped something that Keith couldn’t catch, so weak was his voice. 

“Help me get him detached from this thing,” Dr. Laz said, his face back to being impassive. As they worked on unhooking Shiro from the machine, Shiro’s eyes, often lolling to the back of his head, would focus back on Keith. Another scream finally drew Dr. Laz away from the table, giving Keith the full control of freeing Shiro from the table as he rejoined the battle outside the Haggarium. 

“Keith…”

“Yes?” Keith looked up, leaning close so Shiro didn’t have to raise his voice.

“Arm…” He weakly motioned to his right arm. “Please…cut it off.” 

Keith hesitated. Dr. Onerva was responsible for him having this arm, but what if he bled to death? 

“Please,” Shiro begged weakly, looking paler by the minute. 

“Stay with me, Shiro,” Keith said. He studied his arm and sighed. What could he use to disconnect Shiro from the arm? He tried tugging on it, feeling around the seams, searched the entire expanse of the bionic arm for any switch or button that could help loosen the connection to the tissue. 

“I should have asked Dr. Laz if there was a way to take this off,” Keith grunted. 

“There isn’t a switch,” Shiro said weakly. 

Keith’s shoulders slouched. “I’m sorry, Shiro.” He scanned the tabletops for any surgical instruments Dr. Onerva may have left behind. Or an axe near the fire extinguisher. Anything. 

Hold on. 

He had to laugh. He hadn’t thought of his measly pocket knife all this time, having long abandoned it in favor of more effective weapons throughout the night. But now it’s time had come. 

“I completely forgot about this,” Keith said as he reached for the purple-hilted blade. “I don’t know how good it’ll be, but.” 

“Please,” Shiro weakly begged. 

Another scream outside, stealing Keith’s attention for a quick moment, filling him with brief guilt at not being there to help out. But Shiro needed him too. He was close to death. Even if they were getting surrounded out there, Keith would not leave him. 

_If we’re both dying tonight, then so be it_ , Keith decided and set to work. 

He dug the blade between metal and flesh, working as diligently as he could. His eyes averted back to Shiro every now and again. Shiro had gasped in little pain in the beginning, but he grew silent soon after, letting Keith work in silence. 

“Are you still with me?” Keith would ask after some time. Shiro always responded with a whimper or little groan, weak and faint, but still there. Still with him. It fueled him farther. He wasn’t going to lose Shiro. But he’d frown, worried about any blood that’d come back with the blade each time he pulled the blade back. But he had no choice; he had to dig the blade deeper, work his way in as gingerly as he could, careful as not to cut at flesh while at the same time trying not to set something off that’d electrocute Shiro. 

After what seemed like years, Keith finally felt the bionic arm give under his hand. He smiled down at Shiro, whose eyes, dark and deep like the cosmos and teary, filled with unspoken gratitude. Keith bent down and kissed his chapped lips. 

“I’m getting you out of here,” Keith said, “whatever it takes.” 

He tugged on the bionic arm, moving it gingerly in case the wires were still attached to Shiro’s body. As he had suspected, there were still wires that went deep into his beloved’s arm. How to remove them? 

He brought his blade to the first wire. A surgeon would have to do a complete removal, but Keith just had to sever the connection. With a quick motion, he slashed through the remaining wires. 

Shiro gave a guttural cry out as though his entire arm had just been axed. His bionic arm lay limp nearby, and a few drops of blood dribbled from where Keith had accidentally nicked him, but otherwise he shouldn’t have been feeling this pain, unless—

_Dr. Onerva, you sick bitch._

“Shiro, shhh, you’re free, you’re safe.” 

Keith collected him in his arms, cradling him against his chest. Shiro buried his face in Keith’s neck and wept openly. He could barely move his left hand, but Keith was sure he would have grabbed hold of him. He squeezed him back to give him the catharsis. 

Just then the doors flew open. General Olivan, Commander Hace, and Dr. Laz ran in then stopped, staring at Keith and Shiro for a brief moment. Perhaps noting the tears in their eyes, they halted, unsure whether to give them a bit of privacy. 

Keith cleared his throat. “I unhooked Shiro successfully from Onerva’s machine. Where’s Ilun?” 

“Ilun is on her way to the rendezvous point,” General Olivan informed him. “Dr. Onerva has been neutralized. We are ready to extract you both.”

Dr. Laz walked over to the table, inspecting the arm. “Allura will need this for analysis.” 

Keith nodded as Commander Hace came over. 

“Are you able to stand?” he asked Shiro in a tone that was the kindest Keith had heard him use. 

Shiro shook his head. Keith made to pick him up, but Commander Hace put his hand out, stopping him. He and Dr. Laz wrapped up Shiro’s stump in a bandage, then he lifted up Shiro up, cradling him over his shoulder. Keith followed closely behind, his hand always close to Shiro’s head.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

The entire hospital staff spoke of Keith as if he were a cat, obsessively protective of the patient. He never left the room, even after visiting hours; no matter how much the nurses encouraged him to rest up in his own bed at home, or one even threatened to call security (to which Keith only nonchalantly informed her of the many agents he had taken down not too long ago), they had to resign to the fact that this was a special case.

Not that the two men made any noise. The patient seldom spoke, and Keith never was seen outside the ward until a friend would check in and encourage him to eat (or, as was more likely the case, bring food to him.) 

Keith refused to leave Shiro’s side. By the time they had reached the hospital, Shiro was in the worst possible state. Skin pallid and clammy, vitals readings that enticed alarm, it wasn’t long before Shiro was hooked up again to more IV lines, more machines. But these machines were kinder. They kept track of his heart rate, blood pressure, and breathing. He slept the entire time, barely responsive to Keith, but when he was he would gently squeeze his hand back. The IV lines ranged everything from saline to antibiotics and some medications needed to fix this or that acute condition. Another for parenteral nutrition. 

Keith didn’t understand them at first, but the first time this happened, he stopped the nurse that stopped by with a new IV bag and demanded it be given back to the pharmacy. A horrible image flashed through his mind, of one of Lotor’s generals slipping into the basement lab, slipping into the IV room, slipping in poison into Shiro’s bag. 

“Sir, our staff cannot get into the IV room without proper ID,” the nurse insisted, but Keith shook his head, glaring fearfully at the IV bag like it was a bomb. He would not have it enter Shiro’s body. 

He refused to have any of Shiro’s medications prepared in the pharmacy. Someone had to prepare the drug in the room with Keith watching, even if this went against the sterile preparation protocol of hospitals. Keith had insisted, his voice raising until it had cracked with his hysteria, until hospital personnel agreed to see to his ways. A small station was set up to try to meet the sterile demands, and the clinical pharmacist on duty was called to prepare, as such prep required meticulous attention. 

“If this man gets infected,” a harassed-looking clinical pharmacist had hissed as she looked through the mess. “I swear—”

Keith had to approve the drug vials himself, ensure the name on it along with the clinical pharmacist before the medication was to be added to the bag. He searched the name of every drug, found what it was used for, before he could give the pharmacist the approval to prepare the medication, and the nurse the approval to administer it. If the medication was a tablet, he needed the bottle brought up, and he’d even look up the manufacturer’s name just so he can verify that the drug really appears as it did in the database. 

“I haven’t been this scrutinized since my days as a tech in college,” the pharmacist sighed after she left the room. 

“That man in there sawed the patient’s arm off in order to free him from whatever he was trapped under,” the nurse pointed out. “Whatever it was, they both went through hell. Can’t blame him, though. Must be terrified he’s close to losing his partner again.” 

The pharmacist glanced over her shoulder, suddenly sorry for the two. “He’s traumatized! He should get evaluated!” 

“When he’s ready,” the nurse agreed.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Keith awoke to the door knocking. He frowned. The hospital staff normally walked in with little in the way of asking for permission.

“Keith?” 

He shot up, just realizing that someone must have been in the room while he had fallen asleep earlier that morning. He didn’t sleep with that many blankets. Gasping, he quickly checked at Shiro, his eyes darting through the computer screen. His vitals were still normal, although his husband was still sleeping, still unresponsive as he had been since the day he was brought here. 

But the voice—

“Mom?” he called out in a whisper. 

Krolia appeared in the room. 

“Keith,” she said, closing the space between them in three strides and engulfing him in a tight hug. Keith had always been on the small size, rather strange as both of his parents were tall, especially his mother. “I got your message. I’m so sorry, Keith!” 

Keith nodded. He had been too distraught to send her anything, but Pidge had composed the message for him. She had read the message to him three times before she felt comfortable enough to send the email in his stead. 

“It wasn’t me. My friend Pidge sent it because I couldn’t…I wasn’t in my right mind.” He motioned towards Shiro. 

“I know,” Krolia said. “I wouldn’t have been able to either. Your friend is very kind.” 

Keith’s lips twitched, thinking of the circumstances that had led to his and Pidge becoming friends. Although he was always fine with having a very small social circle (Shiro had always been enough for him), he had hoped his friendship with Pidge wouldn’t end with the mission, a fact that she had assured him he had nothing to worry about. 

“Yeah, man, nearly dying together binds us together!” Lance had added with a laugh. He and Allura were also there, as were Hunk and Dr. Coran. They had all given Keith company although the events of that afternoon passed like a fog in Keith’s memory, worried as he was over Shiro. He had surgery during that time to remove the last of the circuitry embedded in his arm, but all he could think of was Shiro flatlining on the operation table, and not being there to help him. 

“He’s been sleeping all this time,” Keith said sadly, noticing the little changes that indicated that Krolia must have been tending to Shiro while Keith was sleeping. Like Keith, Shiro too had gained another blanket. It _was_ pretty cold in here. Krolia nodded, stroking Shiro’s arm as if comforting him. 

“He went through so much,” Krolia said. “Be patient. Wait it out, Keith. He’ll come around.” She gave him another comforting hug. “I was so worried when you didn’t call after a couple weeks.” 

Keith and Krolia were not much talkers, so long strands without communication wasn’t unusual, but the longer it went on, the more worried she grew. She had tried calling up Keith and Shiro’s phones, but at the time neither had been charged. She had confessed to driving up to their old home to check up on them, when she had hit a string of unusual events that led her astray. 

“The Garrison,” Keith guessed. 

Krolia nodded and shifted over to peer down at Shiro. With utmost gentleness, she parted aside Shiro’s white forelock, touching his forehead and cheek. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Thankfully not the kind who were looking to shoot you dead. Had I made it to your home I would have become a target, but the four men and women who intercepted me kept me informed that I needed to keep my distance. I was furious…and gave them a piece of my mind. But I knew I was fighting something much bigger than myself. They were only trying to protect myself and the surviving Shiroganes from harm.” 

“Were they appointed by General Shirogane?”

“I don’t know,” Krolia said. “But they did mention a Dr. Samuel Holt.” 

“Holt?” Keith’s eyes widened. “A relation to Pidge and Matt Holt? Huh…sounds like the whole family’s in the military.” 

After Krolia, the surviving Shiroganes arrived. Shiro’s mother, Takara, simply sat beside him and wept the entire time, too distraught to manage beyond two words to Keith and a hug that was crystal clear in its meaning: _Thank you._ The news of her husband’s death had aged Takara considerably, and Keith couldn’t find the words to comfort her. To think the last time he had seen her he was bringing her a birthday present. He had to lie down and cry himself to sleep after she had left. 

Akane hadn’t dyed her hair, which Keith took notice of. She kept a smile, and tried to appear strong in front of her mother and wife Yuuna, but her jokes were light and infrequent, and after some time, silence filled the room only to be overcome with the occasional beeping from the machine.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Allura had eventually called for Keith to meet up with her and the rest of her unit. Confused, Keith had asked on phone why she couldn’t come to him, but Allura had insisted he meet up with her.

“Dr. Coran will pick you up in the main lobby,” she said. “You’ll meet with us in an undisclosed location.” 

“Why all the secrecy?” Keith demanded. “What’s going on?” 

But Allura had already hung up. Sighing, he peered back at Shiro. 

“I’ll watch over him,” Krolia assured him. “If she needs to see you, go.” 

“I promised I wouldn’t leave his side,” Keith said. 

“You haven’t broken your promise,” Krolia said. “What Allura wants to speak with you about is probably related to Shiro. Go to her.” 

Keith sighed. “All right. If anything happens, call me. Please.” 

The drive up was uneventful. The day was very bright, the sun nearly coring through Keith’s eyes that Dr. Coran found it amusing. 

“You’re getting too used to being indoors!” he chuckled. 

Keith rubbed his eyes. He didn’t want to divulge that he regularly woke up in the night to check up on Shiro. Throughout the last week he had been slowly finding his way back to reality. His eyebrows would furrow or he’d frown as someone spoke with him, showing signs that he could hear them. If he spoke, it was faint, unfocused. He was still incredibly weak, but on the road to recovery. 

Dr. Coran drove them to what appeared to be a strip mall. They entered a small shop with dark-tinted windows and a “For Rent” sign. The front looked like a shop for rent, but behind the doors were filed several people: Allura, Lance, Pidge, Hunk, and to Keith’s surprise: Romelle from the library. 

Four other people in Garrison officer uniforms lines the back; Keith wondered if they were the four Krolia had spoken of and memorized their names and faces: James Griffin, Ina Leifsdóttir, Ryan Kinkade, Nadia Rizavi. Allura was addressing to several people among the room, all, Keith could only guess, were everyone who had been working in direct opposition to the GALRA Unit. Among them Keith recognized General Olivan, Commander Hace, Dr. Laz, and Ilun. 

There was also General Iverson, looking worse for wear but otherwise alive and well. 

“Keith!” Allura announced, her face brightening when she noticed him. Dr. Coran bowed as motioned to him as if presenting a trophy to the entire home. Keith stood awkwardly in front of the entire room, acutely aware of he must have appeared next to everyone else. 

“You asked for me,” Keith said. 

“Yes,” Allura said with a nod. She motioned down to the table in front of her. On it was placed the bionic arm. “As you know, Dr. Laz had taken Shiro’s arm after you have severed it. We’ve kept it in our labs and have been studying it for any intel we may gather about the GALRA Unit along with the data and video recordings Shiro had with the Dr. Onerva.” 

Keith’s stomach turned. Shiro’s time with the mad doctor? 

“So why am I here?” Keith asked. 

“Shiro has indicated on record that you are his power of attorney,” Allura said. “We cannot publicize the data found in his arm without your written consent.” 

Keith scanned the table, noting the other evidence they had been discussing: disks Commander Hace had been using to save files, the Sincline eggs, video footage, other strange trinkets. There were also medical implements, the sight of which disturbed Keith with the implication of their presence. How far had Dr. Onerva tormented Shiro? 

“What do they contain?” Keith asked, pointing to the videos. “Does he suffer in them?” 

Allura hesitated before glancing at the others. “We will not show Shiro in distress, if that is what you are concerned with. We are mainly concerned with revealing the the plans of the GALRA unit, as to warn the public of remaining vigilant, as…as we feel the threat may still be present.” 

Keith thought hard. Long time ago he had Shiro working on letting go of old grudges. Viewing the videos would mean feeding himself something to hate Dr. Onerva. Unless if he made the conscious effort to let go. It was the past. Shiro was safe. But Keith also had to know what was done to his husband. 

“I would like to speak with you more on this matter, Allura,” Keith said, “as I also have a favor to request.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

Shiro had read many things about out-of-body experiences. Some had reported that leaving one’s body was a sort of euphoria despite the strangeness, a cure of their fear of death. Perhaps it was because to some, they had a guide: an angel or benevolent spirit. The times he had been pulled out of his own body, it was pain indescribable, a pain that followed electric shocks like pure white hot lightning that seared right into his brain before combusting through every cell of his body until he screamed and begged for release, for death.

(He never did die, although he had overheard the techs and Dr. Onerva mention that he had flatlined many times before.) 

He’d always end up in the same place, the black expanse that was so terrifying. The sound of white noise all around him as he waited, sometimes as he called out (he had to call out, or the doctor would get angry), and then stand back, holding his ground as one of the aliens responded. 

Getting dragged back into his body was equally, if not more, agonizing. Feeling as though his entire body was on fire, he’d go through various breathing exercises, his breath hitting the heavy mask sitting heavy against his face, as he kept telling himself to wait it out. Be patient. 

Be patient. 

Be patient. 

A tear rolled down his cheek, one hand curling in memory of the agonizing pain. 

One hand. The pressure against his face was no longer there. 

The chill of the lab warmed into a more comfortable setting: a bed, although a rhythmic beeping he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Occasionally a voice over his head, confusing him even more. Pressure against his arm. A prick against skin, warm fluid. 

Ah. 

The voice that spoke softly to him, so familiar and wonderful, nearly caused his heart to combust. 

How did Keith get him out of there? His memory of the Haggarium was so blurry. 

Oh, he remembered what happened before he lost his focus. Keith digging into his right arm, freeing him. He remembered traveling through the trans-dimensional realm, seeking out a source that would lead him back to Keith, speaking with him, his heart bursting with wanting to touch him, his heart breaking when Keith first looked at him with fear, with confusion, with longing. 

Keith’s voice over a radio, words speaking to him softly on a mic as he was slowly slipping away. 

_Shiro, I love you._

“Keith…” 

“Shiro?” 

He clung on to the hand that held him, anchoring himself back to life, back to the world of living, back to Keith Shirogane. His eyes flashed open, and he searched Keith’s eyes, taking him in. He bathed his eyesight with the image of his beloved husband, the first thing he sees in his new life out of the Haggarium, and he smiled, his own eyes filling with tears and the utmost respect and admiration for the most amazing man he had ever known in his entire life. 

“Keith! I—you! I love you!”


	13. Mention this to me, and watch the weather change

Goldlake, already such a tiny town, had become much more quiet in the coming months. The apartment once occupied by Keith lay completely empty, vacant and with a sign for rent. No one inquired over it. In the first-floor level, Kielo prepared tea in her unit as Lauri settled by the window. He studied the tapestry in her apartment and smiled, and hummed a little tune his mother once sang before accepting the cup Kielo held out for him. 

There was some sort of news that was going to broadcast later that day. Perhaps all of the televisions would be buzzing with the glaring red “breaking news” headline as General Iverson of the Garrison (and other big names that have since slipped their memory) would be holding a conference to speak with the entire world. Something about a scandal in the military hierarchy, truths unearthed that would call for some self-reflection. 

Kielo only understood a little of it from what that kind lady Allura, and later Keith, had explained to her. So long as there were those to defend the world from unseen forces, she would not fret, but pray as she had been taught by her mother and grandmother, and keep her spirits high. 

She poured herself another cup and peered out, smiling at how tranquil the world appeared outside her window. 

But the sentiment wasn’t shared by some others of Goldlake, or even in Paradise. Mel wiped her eyes as she reread the card her favorite pair of customers had sent her. She would miss them terribly, but she understood them leaving was for Shiro’s well-being, and it was for the better. And for what it was worth, she could always mail out any special orders to them. 

Sal frowned at the empty spot at the cash register where Hunk used to work. His current employee wasn’t terrible, but Hunk was special; had a passion for cooking; the three customers who were becoming regulars had seemingly disappeared along with his resignation letter. Such a pity. 

Not that business was suffering for it. But Sal was going to miss the lot of them.

Next summer he’d have to think about talking his own kid into helping at the place. Maybe it’d teach her some math and manners. 

The television screen overhead shrieked with the “breaking news” headline and he looked up, eyebrows raised as a young woman in a business suit stood on a podium. 

Oh. How he was going to miss the last couple months. 

As Allura’s voice boomed through the speakers, the tranquil quiet of Goldlake, as indeed the rest of the country and the world, was quietly broken with a rippling tension. Olia glanced sadly at the trolley, still waiting for Romelle, thinking back to the girl sudden quitting; she had seemed so happy working here, and in light of the news, as Olia kept up to date on her phone, she hoped the young lady was all right. 

Nyma pushed back the fringes of her hair, sharing awkward glances with Rolo every now and again. His phone rested between them on the counter as they worked diligently, stamping and organizing incoming packages and mail. 

“Keith Shirogane?” Nyma said as she read a letter. “That would be…?”

“My son, thank you,” spoke a woman, jolting them both out of their wits. “You can put his mail in his P.O. Box or mine. I’ll be collecting them.” 

“Oh, Mrs. Koh,” Nyma said, and forced on a smile. “I’m sorry!” 

Krolia smiled as she extended out a hand. “There is nothing to be sorry about, Nyma.” 

Rolo gathered up the mail and handed them off to her, studying her face for any sign of emotion, be it relief or grief, or… 

“Um, was there a reason why Keith left the town so abruptly?” Nyma asked, voicing Rolo’s thoughts. 

“Not that it’s any of our business,” Rolo interjected. “It just seems he wasn’t here for long, and now all this stuff has been on the news.” 

“Oh, no,” Krolia laughed. “He was just in a bad place, but he’s been reunited with the love of his life, and all is well.” 

“Oh! Well, that’s good to hear,” Rolo said. “Had a fight with his partner?” 

“No,” Krolia said. “It was a complicated situation. But his partner is fine and made a full recovery. They decided it was best to move far from here.” 

Nyma and Rolo nodded, smiling at Krolia as she thanked them again for the mail and left. This had been the pattern for the last few months: no forwarding address was given to the post office. Krolia had always stopped by to collect mail for herself (or so she claimed) and for her son. 

“First Kogane and now Shirogane?” Nyma said, eyebrows furrowed. “It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” Rolo agreed. “But, Krolia Koh? Not hard to see where he got ‘Kogane’ from.” 

“Hmm, true.”

“And remember how he looked the first time we saw him? He was out of it. I thought he was under some drug or something. Maybe he had something going on mentally, but I’m glad to hear he’s better.” 

“Yeah, even if it sounds like he’s far away from Nevada,” Nyma said before glancing back at the news playing on the phone. “Aliens. God, who would have guessed!” 

“Yeah,” Rolo said with a little chuckle, giving a lopsided grin. “And they’ve been right here all this time. Just under the surface, under our eyes. Lurking where we can’t see. Like in the back room.” 

Nyma shivered, thinking of tentacles curled around piles of forgotten packages and mail. “Gross!”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

The house in Paradise stood with a “for sale” sign. Krolia entered it one more time to give it another thorough search. All the books had been wiped clean off the bookshelves; the shelves themselves were missing. The bed, the kitchen table, the furniture, the television set, it was all gone. Nearly everything else had been hollowed out. Either the men had taken their old belongings with them to their new residence or they had burned them, not wishing to hold on to old and painful memories.

Getting rid of the furniture was perhaps a bad idea. It would have been a nice visual for anyone looking to observe the estate, but Krolia herself didn’t wish to see the bed and know that the last time her son had lay on it he was nearly choked to death by one of the men who Allura’s crew had trusted. 

She checked each closet one more time for anything else her son and son-in-law might have missed, then checked the garage last before heading out, with a quick stop to the cemetery. 

The flowers on General Hayato Shirogane’s grave had been placed a month ago; they stood drying; some of the petals had fallen in the rare rain last week. She smiled sadly, recalling the visit as the two men and Takara made a visit to this site. 

“Be well,” Krolia said softly. 

Akane and Yuuna were giving Takara company when Krolia reached her home. She embraced the aging woman, happy to see that she looked better from before. It had taken time, but grief had finally let go of her enough that she could return to her normal life, as normal as she could manage. The television was not turned on, Krolia noted, perhaps by Akane’s insistence. 

“Got anything you’d like to send to Shiro?” she asked. “I’m heading that way.” 

Takara nodded to the stack. There was also some baked goods, probably from Yuuna, as well as another wrapped present from Akane. 

“When does your flight take off?”

“Oh, not traveling by air. Just getting around how I always do.” 

“Goodness, never been on a plane?” 

Krolia grinned. “I’m used to it.” 

After another hug to each woman, Krolia headed back to the RV. 

The radio blared on about the conference. Not one channel seemed to talk about anything else. Even in the stations that tried to play some music, there was a great deal of alien talk amidst the Top 40 hits or the Oldies. One station had an interview with General Olivan on the future of the Garrison, its relationship with Area 51, and the future of military research. In another, a discussion on Dr. Onerva’s upcoming trial—Krolia was surprised to learn the woman was still alive despite everything else she had heard had been done—and in yet another, an official statement by General Iverson about Admiral Sanda. 

And Krolia couldn’t help but note the irony of using the radio to discuss such things. Her son had told her plenty over time about what he learned about the research of Dr. Onerva, of the radio-dimensional beings and how they had access to their realm of existence. About how _Shiro_ had access to their world while locked up in the Haggarium. 

“And let the citizens of this country know, should any threat reach our borders, we are prepared to face them head-on!” came Admiral Sanda’s voice, reverberating throughout the RV. 

Krolia frown as a shiver ran past her. She was speeding down a rural highway, the only one on the road; and the thought of an imminent attack, of seeing a tall alien leg, ginormous and spider-like, suddenly appearing on the road filled her with dread. How would she call for help, out here in the middle of nowhere? How could she be sure Keith and Shiro were all right? Takara, Akane, Yuuna? 

She shook her head. It would never happen. The Sincline eggs were taken out of the Fort. All of the intel were now in the hands of allies. 

The RV hummed in silence for a few moments before the next song came on: “Welcome to Paradise.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

_“And let the citizens of this country know, should any threat reach our borders, we are prepared to face them head-on!”_

“Are you hearing this?” Agent A asked Agent Lotor, her phone placed on the round coffee table. Agent N transcribed the interview while Agents E and Z played darts a few feet away. “This is all just so ridiculous.”

“Fascinating, how that woman’s confidence oozes with every word,” Agent Lotor said. “Have they not figured out that the Sincline eggs they possess were all flukes?” 

“Appears not, or they assume the species they are dealing with are so alien that whatever they have observed must be the correct properties of the species.” 

“It doesn’t make sense, if they have collected all of the intel from Dr. Onerva herself.” 

“Perhaps. Or our friend General Olivan is afraid to spread worldwide panic.” Lotor shrugged. “Just let the world know they have unearthed some bad apples playing a dangerous game, and that the military has their backs. Meanwhile you can bet your pretty nose they are tearing the facilities again in search for the real relics.”

Acxa’s eyes cast over to the eggs. They lay on and within a pile of blankets, all carefully deposited with a would-be mother’s eye. It was the opposite of the awful way that woman had kept them, confined and frozen, unable to develop normally. 

But no more.

“They know, Acxa. Some have known for a long time.” The radio was turned off. “Some knew the moment my mother and I returned from the dead, with you in my arms.” She noted the affection in his voice, and it was hard not to smile back. She had loved him the moment she had seen him, in her own realm. She had heard the doctor’s pleas, and for that reason she had given him half her life, thus making him like herself. She did not regret her decision. “Some knew the moment they saw you four tearing apart General Sendak and his men—hope you enjoyed the feast. It’s too late anyways; some of your kind had already slipped into their world, and it’s making them anxious.”

“And because we’ve come here—because that human has gone there—” 

From her darts, Agent E butted in on the conversation, “The others can come here too? Including the ones we don’t like? I’m not looking forward to those monsters coming here, I like this plane!”

“—Let the humans fight those monsters, then; we’ll be here when it’s over.” 

Acxa glanced over at Agent N, and her stomach turning slightly. She possessed the ability to shape-shift too, when wearing a special wristband. But Agent N was of a different sort altogether, one Acxa had never run across in the other realm. She was quite glad for that, at least; she preferred taking on a whole army of humans than one of Agent N’s kind.

“How long until the eggs hatch?” Acxa asked. 

She could hear Lotor’s chuckle, low and as if it was against her ear, sending a jolt through her spine. 

“Not long, my love. And then, we’ll all be together—and free—at last.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ φ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

The town they now resided in always had rain. Not all the time, and not every day, but the annual precipitation for this town was officially more than Paradise and Goldlake combined. The first time they stood under falling rain, feeling the intense shower against their skin, they laughed and embraced tightly, remembering themselves in their younger years, in love and lust under the shower kissing their naked tickled skin.

Days and nights passed with a sense of peace neither could explain. They were complete strangers in this land, with no sense of eyes on them watching them for nefarious purposes behind stacks of library books or setting their plates on a dining table. Only Krolia was an occasional familiar face, but even she was a rare visitor. 

It would be months before either headed for their first day at work, under assumed names. For now, both needed to heal. Shiro still needed physical and occupational therapy. And Keith still needed to get over what he had seen, shake off everything that Dr. Coran had infused into his veins months ago. And both had to figure out what to do with their lives now that both have discarded connections with the military and occult (“We could open a bookshop like Mel’s,” Shiro had suggested once as they fell asleep.) 

Each day the sky was different from the day previous. It could be bright and sunny, the sky a crystal clear blue, and the next dull and grey, and the next yellowed with looming storm. Sometimes, it was all on the same day. It kept the day interesting. It kept their husky Neptune entertained. 

Keith had smiled when Shiro had given her the name. 

“No longer in that love affair with Saturn, huh?” he had said. 

Shiro was currently settled on their porch, observing the outside. The news brief had since ended, and the two had shut off the television, agreeing not to see any more. There was nothing else left _to_ say. None of the words Allura or General Olivan or anyone else had spoken was anything Keith or Shiro hadn’t already known. 

And it did not concern either of them. Whatever happened now was no longer their fight. They had had enough. It was part of the deal Keith had made when he agreed to give the Garrison rights to the footage of Shiro and Dr. Onerva. Shiro’s shame for their freedom. 

That was their reason for putting as much distance between themselves and Area 51. Between themselves and all of Nevada, and the States in general. 

Keith settled across from him and smiled. Neptune settled on his lap and he absentmindedly stroked behind her ear. Despite the scar across his face and the white forelock, Shiro appeared so peaceful. His eyes held the weariness of the entire world, a man who had seen too much, felt too much, but in that moment, he was lost to an unnamed, tranquil oblivion. 

Sighing contently, Keith slipped into Shiro’s arm, apologizing softly to Neptune. They glanced up at the sky. The blue was seeping into overcast skies, and in the distance was the sweet first drizzle of the rain. 

“It’s so beautiful, I could fall asleep like this,” Keith said. 

“And you have, twice already,” Shiro said with a little smile. Rain began to strike over the awning arched over them. He huddled Keith closer to him, nuzzling against him. “Love you.” 

Out in their garden, a Japanese fountain filled with rainwater until it spilled over, softly striking the only sound amidst the tranquil sincerity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thirteen chapters. Posted on the 13th. Thirteen is a Fibonacci number. :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3


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